


The Future I Cannot Forget

by Spikedluv



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), American Idol RPF, Kris Allen (Musician)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Community: Harlequinkradam, M/M, Romance, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-31
Updated: 2011-01-31
Packaged: 2017-10-15 06:44:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 43,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/158108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spikedluv/pseuds/Spikedluv
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kris is attacked by a mugger.  He wakes up the next morning in the apartment of a gorgeous stranger with no memory of who he is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Future I Cannot Forget

**Author's Note:**

> Written for harlequinkradam using the general prompt: Amnesia! Title from “Time For Miracles”.
> 
> Written: September 25, 2010

  


Prologue

Adam’s feet were killing him, but the new snake skin boots he’d saved weeks for and finally bought that afternoon and broken in that night looked _fabulous_ (even Brad, who’d been in a bitchy mood because he was still smarting over his latest dating disaster, agreed), so it was totally worth it. Behind him Brad said something snotty that made Cassidy snort a reluctant laugh and Danielle smack him in the arm, but Adam missed it because movement half a block up and across the street had caught his attention.

Two men standing close enough to be friends, or even lovers, but there was a tension between them that raised a red flag for Adam. There was a brief struggle and then one man hit the other in the head with something he held in his hand and the stricken man went down to the sidewalk, merely stunned or knocked unconscious, Adam couldn’t tell.

Startled by the sudden violence Adam froze for a second until Brad ran into him and swore at Adam for stopping right in front of him. The hitter bent down and rifled the other man’s pockets and Adam started moving again. He stepped off the curb without checking for traffic and got an angry beep from the cab that swerved around him without slowing.

The man who’d been hit was down, but apparently not completely out of it. He reached for the other man’s ankles, but an angry kick dislodged his hold, and then the attacker set up to aim a second kick towards the man’s head.

Adam called out, startling the man before he could land the blow, and then he began running up the street towards them. Adrenaline spiked and Adam no longer felt the effects of a late night drinking and dancing while wearing new boots. The mugger’s head jerked in Adam’s direction, and then he looked once more at the man lying on the ground before taking off in the other direction.

Adam reached the injured man and knelt beside him. He touched the man’s shoulder as he looked up at Adam with pain glazed eyes and tried to get up.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Adam said, “he’s gone now. Unfortunately, I’m pretty sure he took your wallet with him.”

Adam leaned over the man (who was really quite cute, he thought, despite the way his face was all scrunched up in pain) and tried to look into his eyes, even though he had no idea what he was looking for. “How’s your head?”

“Hurts,” the cutie said, making an aborted attempt to lift his hand to touch his head. “Anyone ever tell you that you have really pretty eyes?”

Adam grinned; the guy couldn’t be hurt too badly if he could still flirt with Adam. “You clearly have a head injury.” He got serious at the reminder. “And I need to call you an ambulance, or something.”

“No.” Cutie groaned as he forgot about his injury and shook his head. He reached out and grabbed Adam’s hand before he could dial his cell phone. “No hospital; no insurance.”

“Um, okay,” Adam said, kind of frazzled because he really had no idea what to do in a situation like this. He took cutie’s hand in his free one, then closed his phone but still held onto it just in case. “But you really shouldn’t be alone tonight, is there someone I can call for you?”

“Yeah,” cutie said, but then his eyes rolled back in his head. Adam leaned over him and patted his cheek. “Hey. Hey, come on, sweetie, don’t . . . . Fuck,” Adam swore softly when cutie’s eyelids fluttered closed and refused to open again.

Brad leaned over Adam’s shoulder. “Is he alright?”

“He’s unconscious,” Adam said dryly.

“What are you going to do with him?”

“I don’t know.” Adam looked around their surroundings as if they might offer up a clue, and was surprised when they actually did. “Is that his phone?”

Adam pointed to the object in question and Cassidy picked it up, looked it over. “What’s left of it.” He showed it to Adam in several pieces.

“Well . . . shit,” Adam said. He couldn’t leave the man lying on the sidewalk, and he didn’t even know . . . . Adam checked cutie’s pockets just in case he’d been wrong and the attacker hadn’t gotten away with his wallet, or on the off chance that there was some other means of identifying him.

“Are you feeling him up?” Brad said. “That seems more like something I’d do.”

“No, I’m not feeling him up,” Adam said, “I’m looking for some way of identifying him.”

There was no wallet, but there was a set of keys and a guitar pick. Adam held up the car keys and Danielle snatched them out of his hand. She pressed the panic button, but there was no responding beep from any of the cars on the street.

“What are we going to do with him?” Cassidy asked.

“He said he doesn’t have insurance for a hospital, but I can’t just leave him lying here, so I guess I’m taking him home.”

“You do realize that this isn’t like getting a puppy from the shelter,” Brad said. “You don’t get to keep him.”

Adam shouldn’t have been surprised that Brad would notice that the injured cutie was just Adam’s type, and he hadn’t even heard the southern accent yet. “Shut up and help me get him up,” Adam said, shoving his cell phone into his pocket and then sliding his arm beneath cutie’s shoulders. “Be careful of his head.”

 

Part 1

He woke to the blurry image of someone leaning over him. He jerked back, startled, then groaned when his head started pounding like someone was using it to play drums.

“Brad, stop hovering,” a voice from the side said, and then another face appeared in his line of sight.

His vision was still blurry, but he could make out dark hair and blue eyes outlined in smudged eyeliner, and a sweet smile. He pulled up a less blurry image in his mind and realized that he recognized this man.

“Hey,” the not quite a stranger said, “how are you feeling?”

He groaned softly. “Head hurts.”

The dark haired man grimaced in sympathy. “Yeah, I’ll bet. Oh, no, don’t!” he said when he saw him reaching for his head. The man grabbed his hand before he could touch it. “Be careful, you’ve got quite a bump there.”

He gently probed his head when the other man released his wrist.

“Aspirin?” the man offered.

“Yes, please,” he said with feeling.

He pushed himself off the couch and followed the other man towards the promise of pain relief. He looked around the apartment, which was basically one big room, in an attempt to get his bearings. His eyes met those of the brown haired man who’d been looming over him when he woke, and who was apparently named Brad, and then he scurried into the kitchen and moved to the other side of the dark haired man, who he felt comfortable around, for some reason, even though he couldn’t put a name to his face.

Brad snorted. “You’re afraid of li’l ol’ me, and comfortable with the big boy here?”

“Hey,” the dark haired man protested slightly, then winked at him.

“I know him,” he said, then looked at the other man. “Don’t I?”

“We only just met last night.” The dark haired man held out his hand, and he took it. “I’m Adam.” He smiled. “Now we’ve met properly.”

Adam, he thought, and smiled back.

“Wanna tell me your name?”

He opened his mouth to answer, but the smile fell off his face when nothing came to mind.

“That’s okay,” Adam said, patting his shoulder. “You took a pretty hard hit to the head. It’ll come back. Here.”

He took the water and aspirin that Adam held out.

“Hungry? I’m making an omelet.”

Adam turned the burner back on and picked up the spatula he’d set on the stove. Adam waved the spatula at him. “You, sit down. Brad, toast.”

He watched Adam and Brad move around the small kitchen area and tried not to think about the fact that he couldn’t remember his own name. Or anything else for that matter.

“What happened to me?” he said when his head throbbed painfully, reminding him of the injury.

“You were mugged, honey,” Adam said, looking at him sadly.

“They got your wallet,” Brad added helpfully.

He touched the rear pocket of his jeans, even though he couldn’t remember for sure whether he kept his wallet there. But he must, right?

“. . . and your phone got broken in the scuffle,” Adam concluded.

He looked to where Adam pointed, and saw the pieces of his phone (well, _a_ phone, that he presumed was his since Adam said it was) sealed in a plastic baggie. He slid it over and examined it.

“Maybe you haven’t lost everything,” Adam said hopefully. “They might be able to get something off the SIM card thingy.”

He pushed the bag away as something nagged at his mind. Fresh pain blossomed in his head and he gasped. “They didn’t get my guitar, did they?”

“Who?”

“The mugger, did they . . . ?”

“We didn’t see a guitar,” Brad said.

Adam shook his head, agreeing with Brad’s comment. “Maybe you didn’t have it with you last night?”

He slumped back in the chair, suddenly drained as relief washed away the agitation. It took him a few minutes to realize that both Adam and Brad were staring at him. “What?”

“You play guitar?” Adam said.

Without waiting for an answer Adam stepped over to the table and picked up one of his hands.

“I guess,” he said, as Adam ran his thumb over the calluses on his fingers, and then smiled at him.

“You remembered something. See, you’re gonna be fine.”

His stomach felt all fluttery and his cheeks went warm at Adam’s smile.

While they finished making breakfast, Adam and Brad told him the full story of what had happened to him the night before. It was a little disjointed, since Brad liked to jump all over the place in his storytelling, but he figured he got all the important bits from Adam, who kept pulling Brad back on track when he strayed.

Adam set a plate in front of him and said, “Eat up, and then I’m taking you to get your head looked at.”

His eyes went wide, “But you said . . . .”

“I’ve got a friend who works at the free clinic, so you don’t need insurance,” Adam explained. “And it was bad enough last night when you were _unconscious_ ,” Adam emphasized the word as if he’d done it on purpose, “but now that I know you’ve got memory loss, you’re going.” Adam pointed the spatula at him, which reminded him scarily of his mother. “No arguing.”

He closed his mouth and made a zipping motion across his lips, then looked down at his plate, wondering how he was going to eat with his lips zipped closed.

Adam laughed, and the sound of it made him smile. He raised his face and transferred his gaze from his plate to Adam. Brad sat across the small table, and Adam sat between them. He gave him an indulgent smile and said, “You can talk, and you can eat, you just can’t argue. At least not about this.”

He smiled as he picked up his fork, then glanced at Brad, who was looking between the two of them and shaking his head.

~*~*~*~

After breakfast and a shower, Adam took him to the clinic. Adam introduced him to his friend, Dr. Sheila Carpenter, who shook her head and said, “Bringing me another stray, Adam?”

His hackles rose, though he wasn’t sure if it was because she called him a stray, or because he wasn’t the first person Adam had brought to her for help. Which was ridiculous really, but it didn’t stop him from snapping, “I’m not a stray. I just can’t remember who I am.”

Adam gave a startled laugh and rubbed his back. “Oooh, baby’s got bite,” he said, which made him feel kind of silly for having lost his temper. At the same time he wanted to step closer to Adam and let his arm slide over his shoulder.

“Sorry, sweetie,” Dr. Carpenter said. “Why don’t you tell me what happened?”

Since he didn’t remember it, he let Adam tell the story of his mugging again, and then Dr. Carpenter stuck him in a couple of machines and took pictures of his head.

“The good news,” she told them afterwards, “is that the skull didn’t get cracked, and there’s no swelling or internal bleeding. The bad news is that memory loss is a tricky thing. In this case it appears to be trauma related, and should come back. You might still be missing the time around the attack, but it’s possible you’ll get everything else back. Just give it some time and don’t push yourself too hard.”

She handed him a card. “Call us if there are any other symptoms, dizziness, blurred vision, or if the headaches get worse or last longer than a couple of days.”

Adam agreed that they would call, and then they got out of there, much to his relief. Their next stop was the spot where he’d been mugged. They found a piece of plastic that probably fit the puzzle pieces of his cell phone, but no memories. They walked the street pressing the panic button on the key chain they’d found in his pocket, hoping to discover his car parked further away from where they’d found him.

When that didn’t bear fruit they turned around and headed back the other way to look for the place he’d come from. Possibly a bar or café where he’d been playing his guitar if the pick they’d also found in his pocket was any indication. A set of keys and a guitar pick wasn’t much to go on, but it was all they had.

Nothing looked familiar or jogged loose a memory. He became frustrated and angry. He kicked a small stone on the sidewalk, then grimaced when it ricocheted into the rear fender of someone’s (thankfully beat up) Corolla.

“Hey.” Adam spoke softly, and slid his hand up his arm as if he was gentling a wild horse. “You okay?”

“Just . . . frustrated,” he said. “Sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize to me,” Adam said, squeezing his shoulder. “That poor, unsuspecting car, on the other hand.”

He offered a weak smile, unable to hold onto his frustration in the face of Adam’s smile and good humor.

“Why don’t we take a break?” Adam suggested.

“Really?” He fell against Adam in relief and wrapped his arms around Adam’s waist. “That would be awesome,” he told Adam’s chest.

He felt as much as heard Adam’s chuckle as Adam wrapped his arms around him and dropped a kiss to the top of his head. There was a pub half a block up that offered ‘Good Food & Drink’, and Adam led them there. The sign hanging above the door declared the place to be ‘O’Riley’s Pub’. Adam pushed the door open and they stepped inside.

The interior of the pub was dark after the bright sunshine outside, and he had to blink a few times before he could focus. His eyes felt scratchy, which didn’t help. He wished he had his glasses right now, even though he’d taken his contacts out that morning and rinsed them.

When his eyes finally adjusted, he saw about half a dozen booths along the wall to his left and another dozen tables scattered about the floor. Three booths were occupied and a server moved from the bar, delivering a fresh drink to one of them. When he saw the two of them enter, he smiled and raised his hand in greeting. He politely waved back.

Nearly the entire right side of the pub was taken up by the long mahogany bar. He wasn’t sure how he knew it was mahogany, or how he knew that someone named Charity had carved her name on the inside edge, and yet somehow he was certain of it. On one end of the bar was a door that led to the restrooms, on the other a door that led to the kitchen.

They’d taken a few steps towards the bar when a red haired dynamo detached herself from the end where she’d been sitting and threw herself in their direction.

“Kris!”

Adam stepped in front of him and caught her before she could launch herself at him.

“Careful, hon, he’s got a bit of a headache still.”

He (Kris, apparently) hadn’t said anything to Adam about his returned headache, so he wondered how he’d known.

The girl gave Kris a cheeky grin. “Too much to drink last night, big brother? I thought you were going straight home.” She looked Adam over, and then held her hand up to Kris for a high five.

Because he wasn’t sure what else to do, Kris raised his hand and connected with hers.

“Gotta say,” she said in a loud whisper, “I like this plan a lot better. He’s a cutie.”

Kris glanced up at Adam, who was looking at the girl with a raised eyebrow. And there might have been a pink tinge to his skin beneath the foundation, but it was tough to tell in the lighting.

“Wait.” Kris looked at the girl and leaned a little closer. “Am I . . . ?”

“Out?” she finished for him.

“Gay,” Kris finished, and gaped at her.

“Well, duh!” she said, and then she frowned at Kris. “Why are you asking me?”

“Huh. That actually explains a lot,” Kris said, and then realized that he’d spoken out loud. He ignored the girl’s giggle and glanced at Adam, who was smiling at him with amused fondness.

“So, are you . . . ?”

Adam raised his eyebrows again. “Seriously?”

“Okay,” Kris said, “just checking. That’s good.” He looked down at the floor and scuffed his sneaker over it as his cheeks heated.

“So, wait, are you telling me that you two _didn’t_ hook up last night?”

Kris’ face went even redder.

“Uh, Kris,” Adam said hesitantly, as if trying the name out on his tongue, “Kris got mugged last night.”

“Oh my god,” the girl said, her hand going to her mouth. “Oh my god! _Oh my god!_ Kris, are you alright?”

She reached out as if she wanted to touch Kris to make sure he was alright, but dropped her hand when Kris reflexively shrank into Adam’s side. She didn’t say anything as Adam’s arm went around Kris’ shoulders, just studied them for a few seconds that felt like forever.

“Okay, what’s going on?”

“He took a hit to the head,” Adam explained.

It wasn’t that Kris couldn’t talk, just that he felt comfortable tucked up against Adam’s side and he didn’t really feel like explaining something he couldn’t even remember happening.

“Hence the headache.” She smacked herself upside the head, and Kris automatically reached out and took her hand.

“Don’t do that.”

She gave him a brilliant smile. “I don’t know why I assumed you had a hangover. You’re not that guy.”

“What kind of guy am I?” Kris said.

She shook her head. “What?”

“He doesn’t remember,” Adam said softly.

Her face fell. “You don’t remember what happened last night?” At Kris’ expression she said, “You don’t remember anything?”

Kris shook his head (gently; he’d learned his lesson about that earlier), and then felt bad at the sad expression on her face.

“Not even me?”

“No, sorry.”

“Oh. Well,” she said with fake brightness. “I’m Allison, but you call me Alli.”

“Alli,” Kris said, trying the name out on his tongue. Unfortunately, it didn’t bring any memories flooding back. “Are we . . . before you called me your big brother . . . .”

“Oh, no! I mean, we’re close friends, and sometimes you _act_ like my big brother,” Allison said, giving Kris a mock glare, “but we’re not related. Not by blood, anyway, but we’re music buddies.” She bounced in her excitement.

Kris brightened. “You play guitar, too?”

Allison laughed. “No. You’ve tried to teach me, but . . . .” She shrugged. “I sing, and sometimes we work out a really cool arrangement and do a duet.”

Kris had been presuming that he played guitar while Allison sang. “So, wait, you mean I sing, too?”

“Like an angel,” Allison said, and then looked sad when Kris didn’t get the reference. “My mom said that the first time she heard you sing. You didn’t stop blushing for, like, a week.”

Kris felt his cheeks heat at the story, even though he had no memory of the actual events. Adam chuckled and squeezed him.

“I’d love to hear you sing sometime,” Adam said.

Allison beamed. “He’s really good!”

“Allison Iraheta, it doesn’t look like you’re doing homework!” a voice boomed from the back of the pub.

Allison rolled her eyes at them, then turned her head and bellowed back, “Blake, Kris is here! He got mugged last night!”

~*~*~*~

Blake was a big man, at least a foot taller than Kris and broad in the shoulders with arms the size of tree trunks. He had short graying hair and a well trimmed gray beard and mustache.

“You alright, kid?” Blake said as he looked Kris over, his voice deep and low when he wasn’t yelling at Allison about homework.

Kris started to nod under the intense scrutiny, even though he knew the glare being directed his way wasn’t actually being directed _at_ him, but Allison broke in before he could complete the gesture.

“He got hit on the head and now he doesn’t remember a-anything.” Her voice broke on the last word and Kris wished he could assure her that he did remember, but he really sucked at lying and it wasn’t like she wouldn’t be able to easily uncover the falsehood.

“Shit,” Blake said, and he sort of looked like he wanted to hug Kris too. “You have your head checked out?”

Kris explained that they’d just been to the clinic and they said he was fine. “Except for, you know, not being able to remember anything.”

“Okay, well, sit yourself down back here and tell us what happened,” Blake said, leading the way to a large round table at the end of the bar, far away from the front door and near the hallway that led to the office, storage room, and exit. A sign in the middle of the table proclaimed that it was ‘permanently reserved’.

Kris made sure he sat next to Adam, but he had the feeling that Adam would’ve done the same anyway. It was nice. He glanced around the pub, his gaze catching on the small stage at the front. Adam squeezed his hand to get his attention.

“You want something to drink?”

“Yeah,” Kris said slowly, unsure of what he liked. “A beer . . . I guess.”

Just then a bottle was plunked down in front of him. “You can probably use that,” Blake said, then asked Adam, “What can I get you?”

Adam wrinkled his nose while he thought about it, which Kris thought was adorable.

“Can I just get a bottle of water?”

Blake nodded, and then moved away to get the water.

“What?” Adam said at the look on Kris’ face.

“Water?”

“I need to watch my weight.”

“Seriously?”

Kris’ eyes automatically slid down Adam’s body. When they returned to Adam’s face he was looking back at Kris with raised eyebrows. Kris chuckled at being caught. And blushed, of course.

When Allison and Blake were seated across from them, and everyone had a drink (Coke for Allison, and water for Blake, as well), Kris said, “So, you guys know me, apparently.”

“Of course we know you,” Allison said, still sounding a little bit choked up.

“You work here,” Blake said. “Bartending when you’re not singing,” he added, with a nod towards the stage Kris had noticed. “Sometimes you and Alli do a set together. I saw you at one of our open mic nights and snapped you up. At least until the record companies get their heads outta their butts and steal you away.”

Tears stung Kris’ eyes at the kind words spoken so matter-of-factly. He was sure that someone, his mom perhaps, had said something equally as glowing about him at one point, but Kris couldn’t remember it, so this was the nicest thing he remembered anyone ever saying to him.

“So, you own this place?” Adam asked Blake.

“Yep. Going on twelve years now.”

“You’re . . . O’Riley?” Kris said, and Blake laughed.

“No. Spencer, Blake Spencer. Previous owner kept the name, and so did I. O’Riley’s has been here for over thirty years, and I figured no sense confusing the customers, you know?”

“Yes?” Kris said, which made Adam chuckle and squeeze the hand he’d kept a hold of.

“So, your name is Kris,” Adam said softly, and Kris murmured, “The man without a name.”

Adam coughed to cover a laugh, but Allison and Blake looked at him curiously.

“When we realized that Kris couldn’t remember his name, and that he didn’t have any ID on him since his wallet had been stolen, we wanted to give him a name, you know, so we’d have something to call him just ‘til we figured out his real name, but Kris wouldn’t hear of it . . . .”

“I didn’t want to jinx it,” Kris muttered.

“He wanted his own name back, so we decided to call him ‘the man without a name’.”

“Besides,” Kris added, shooting a weak glare at Adam, “you wanted to call me Jim Bob.”

Allison snorted and Blake hid his smile behind his glass.

“Hey,” Adam said, holding up his hand, “given the accent, there was a fifty percent chance I was right.”

Kris tried to hold the glare, but he ended up laughing at Adam’s ridiculous stereotyping. Adam bumped shoulders with him.

“But I like Kris better.”

“Thanks,” Kris said dryly.

“You guys are so cute,” Allison cooed. “How did you even meet?”

“Well,” Adam said wryly, “my face was the last thing poor Kris saw before he succumbed to his head injury.” He then repeated the story he’d told Kris earlier. Even though Kris was hearing it for the third time, it still sounded like something that had happened to someone else.

“Do you remember anything?” Blake asked in his rumbly voice, which was actually kind of soothing.

“I know how to tie my shoes and what Twitter is,” Kris said, “but I don’t remember anything about _me_. I know I have a car because I have a car key, but I don’t know what kind or where I left it, and I don’t know where I live. I didn’t even know I worked here before we came in the door.”

“Wow,” Allison said, “that must suck.”

Kris snorted at the understatement.

~*~*~*~

Allison took it upon herself to tell Kris everything she knew about him, from his move to LA so he could play his music, to his accidental outing when she’d caught him staring at some guy’s ass too long, to the time he’d almost died on a mission trip to Morocco. She was breathless when she finished, and Kris was wide-eyed, his head spinning with all the information she’d given him; all separate pieces with no context or thread connecting them, almost as if they were stories about a stranger, someone he’d never met.

As Allison talked, Blake refilled their drinks (Kris got water this time, as well), and then set menus in front of them and told them to order something. When Kris looked helplessly at the menu, wondering what he liked to eat, Blake took it back and told him he was getting a bacon cheeseburger, medium well, with fries and a chocolate milkshake. Adam had looked like he was going to have a heart attack just thinking about Kris eating all that and just squeaked out, “Salad.”

After giving their order, Blake spoke briefly to the bartender, a girl with long blonde hair and a tattoo sleeve, and then returned to their table. She watched Blake’s back as he walked away from her, then smiled at Kris when she realized he was watching her.

“Megan,” Blake said as he lowered himself into the chair, interrupting Allison’s story about how Kris had been the cause of a lover’s spat between a gay couple that had come in once and never returned. Kris was rather glad about that, since both Adam and Allison appeared to be enjoying that story a little bit too much.

“And Anoop.” Blake lifted his chin, indicating the server who had smiled at them when they’d first arrived.

Allison continued talking, and Blake chimed in once in a while to clarify something. Adam touched Kris’ knee under cover of the table, offering a comforting smile when Kris looked sideways at him. Kris didn’t understand how Adam could know him well enough to discern what he needed, when he didn’t even know himself.

Anoop dropped off their food, and they dug in. Kris hadn’t realized how hungry he’d been until the smell of the burger awakened his appetite. They ate while Allison talked. Kris wondered if she’d talk until she lost her voice, and then felt uncharitable, since she was trying to help him regain his memory.

She’d moved on to giving him tidbits of information about the people he worked with on a daily basis. Megan was a single mom and had a son named Ryder, and Anoop was going to school. She rattled off other names, Alexis Grace and Matt and Archie, but Kris was paying more attention to his burger, and he hoped that he wasn’t going to be tested later on all the information she was throwing at him.

Blake left the table again, this time disappearing into the hallway that led to the office. When he returned, he slid a sheet of paper across the table to Kris, who had finished his lunch by then. Kris drew it closer and looked at it; his employment application, which contained his address and emergency contacts: Neil and Kim Allen.

It was sobering how little the information he’d so desired to have meant to him in the vacuum of his mind.

Adam’s finger appeared in Kris’ line of sight as he pointed at the address. “That’s not far from here.” His finger trailed down the paper. “Oh, look, you’re from Arkansas.”

Adam bumped Kris’ shoulder, and Kris bumped him back.

“Allen,” Kris said, his hand touching Adam’s as he pointed to the top of the application. “Kris Allen.”

“I like it better than Jim Bob.”

Kris laughed, momentarily drawn out of his glumness by Adam’s teasing. “Me too.”

“None of this sounds familiar?” Adam said, tapping the paper.

Kris shook his head, then looked at Blake. “How long have I worked here?”

“You came in for open mic night about five months ago.” Blake looked at the application, then tapped his finger to the date Kris had filled out. “You’d been in LA for three months or so, working at a bookstore during the day, playing coffee houses, open mic nights, whatever you could find, evenings. The moment you started singing I was determined to have you play here, you were that good.”

Embarrassed by the offhand compliment, Kris glanced down at the application lying on the table. “Do I still work at the bookstore?”

Blake shook his head. “Just here. We try to keep you busy. You play several nights a week, and you take a few bartending shifts. You’ve been good for business, musically and behind the bar. Let’s face it, both the boys and girls like to look at you. Plus, you take requests when I’m in the mood to make them.”

Kris closed his eyes, trying to hold onto the memory tickling at his mind. “A song coupon, like an IOU?”

Blake frowned. “What?”

But it was gone. Kris shook his head. “Nothing.”

~*~*~*~

A half hour later they let themselves into Kris’ apartment. They entered directly into the living room. It was neat and tidy for the most part – a jacket thrown over the back of a well used couch, a pizza box on the kitchen table, and a guitar propped up in the stuffed chair in a flowery print that even Kris would guess was not the original mate to the striped couch. Luckily the material of both were quite faded, so they didn’t clash as horribly as they could have.

The walls were bare and painted a plain white. Kris walked over and ran his finger along the neck of the guitar. A spiral notebook and a pencil were sat on the coffee table, and Kris had a flash of himself sitting on the floor, guitar on his lap as he scribbled lyrics into the notebook. The image vanished and Kris jerked his hand away from the guitar as if he’d been burned.

“What’s wrong?” Adam asked, worried.

Kris shook his head, unable to tell Adam of his fear that maybe he wouldn’t remember how to play. He glanced around the living room, gaze sweeping over a small television sitting on a scarred table that had probably once been an end table and a pile of DVDs stacked on the floor beside it; and a three shelf bookcase stuffed with books and CDs, on top of which sat a picture frame.

Kris moved over to the bookshelf and picked up the frame to look more closely at the photo. Four people stood together – Kris and another young man, and a couple older than the two of them that Kris took for his parents. The man had his hand on Kris’ shoulder, and the woman was looking at Kris with such . . . pride, if he had to guess. And love. They were all smiling, though the woman looked like she might have been crying previously. As did the man.

Someone had written, “We love you!” in the corner in beautiful silver script.

Kris handed the frame to Adam, who had come to stand beside him. “Looks like I have a brother.”

Adam glanced at the picture, then back at Kris. “You okay?”

“They look really happy,” Kris said, as if that explained everything.

“They do,” Adam agreed. “And so do you.”

Kris picked out a handful of CDs and flipped through them. Someone had eclectic taste in music. There was everything from John Mayer to the Beatles; Michael Jackson to Radiohead. He found an ‘N Sync CD that he hid behind the others before stuffing them back onto the shelf.

Kris looked around him. He didn’t know where to go next. There was so much information here . . . and not enough. None of it meant anything without context. He headed for the kitchen, which had been to their left when they entered.

It was small. Four people might fit in there if nobody tried to move. There weren’t many cupboards, and most of them were empty. There was a 4-piece set of plates and bowls and cups, one set drying in the dish drainer. There were frozen dinners in the freezer; milk, OJ and take out containers in the fridge.

Back in the living room Adam sat on the floor going through the DVDs. “You like action movies,” he told Kris. “No surprise there. But this was a surprise.” He held up a DVD case and Kris had to squint to read the title, Once.

“What’s it about?”

Adam turned it over and read the blurb off the back to him.

“Hmm.”

Kris moved down the hall and checked the closet and bathroom (both on the right behind the living room), while Adam continued looking at the DVDs, muttering every once in a while in a voice too low for Kris to make out the words. There was nothing unusual or exciting in either place, but Kris took a few minutes to wash his hands and take out his contacts when he saw his glasses (he assumed they were his, anyway) sitting on the sink.

He moved on to the bedroom, the doorway located at the end of the short hallway. Plaid shirts, t-shirts and jeans hung in the closet; tank tops, shorts, boxer briefs and socks were folded in the dresser. Condoms and lube lay innocently next to loose change and stray pencils in the night stand. Kris slammed the drawer shut, uncertain as to why finding them made him blush.

Adam was sat on the couch checking his phone when Kris wandered back out to the living room. He looked up at Kris, did a double take when he saw the glasses. His eyes went a little bit dark and his voice sounded husky when he said, “Hey.”

Kris looked down at the stained carpet as he palmed the back of his neck. “Hey.”

“I, um, found this.” Adam indicated a blue plastic file box that sat on the coffee table beside the notebook and a photo album that hadn’t been there before. “I wasn’t sure . . . you might have some credit cards you need to cancel, or something.”

Kris groaned. He hadn’t even thought of the headache of canceling and replacing everything in his wallet, made even more difficult by his inability to remember just what that entailed. A credit card most likely, certainly a driver’s license.

“Here.”

When Kris glanced up Adam stood in front of him, holding out a small bottle of aspirin and a bottle of water.

“I’m fine,” Kris said grumpily.

“You’re not fine,” Adam disagreed easily. “You’ve got a line right here.” He lightly drew his finger down the center of Kris’ forehead. “That’s practically screaming how not fine you are.”

Kris wanted to stay grumpy, but that wouldn’t be fair to Adam. It wasn’t Adam’s fault that Kris had gotten mugged and conked on the head, nor was it his responsibility to help Kris out, and yet he was.

“Why are you being so nice?” Kris said, pouting as he swiped the aspirin bottle out of Adam’s palm and thumbed it open.

“Because you’re overwhelmed and frustrated, and I get that. Besides, I like you.”

“You don’t even know me,” Kris mumbled around two aspirin. “Heck, _I_ don’t even know me.”

“Allison and Blake can’t both be bad judges of character,” Adam said. “Plus, you’re cute.”

Adam slapped Kris on the back when he choked on the water he’d just drank, thankful that he’d already swallowed the aspirin.

“Thanks,” Kris said wryly.

Adam smiled at him. “Welcome.”

Kris sat down on the couch and went through the file box, finding and extracting the folder that held his credit card statements. It took him over half an hour to get his card cancelled and a replacement issued, over half of that spent getting shuffled around until someone could help him. He wouldn’t even have been able to do it then if he hadn’t written the answer (along with his account login ID and password) to the sooper sekrit question on the inside of the folder. It wasn’t the most secure hiding place, but Kris was grateful right then for his laxity.

Kris thumbed the end call button as he flopped back onto the couch, and handed the cell back to Adam. “Sorry.”

Adam closed the book he’d snagged off Kris’ bookshelf and set it on the coffee table. “No problem. Did you want to do anything else?”

Kris needed to go through the rest of the folders to see if there was anything else that needed immediate attention, but he was suddenly exhausted. “Do I have to?” he whined.

Adam chuckled, then combed his fingers through Kris’ hair, pushing the bangs he’d let grow too long off his forehead. He pictured Michelle clucking her tongue and telling him not to wait so long next time, and then it was gone. Kris closed his eyes and rolled until he was pressed up against Adam, and let Adam’s hug make him feel better.

“I should call my parents,” Kris muttered into Adam’s chest.

Kim and Neil Allen, his job application had said. He wasn’t sure what he was going to say to them, but he was hoping that the sound of their voices might jog his memory.

“You wanna do it now?”

Kris shook his head. He hated this feeling of being on the sidelines of his own life. It wasn’t going to get any better by putting stuff off, but he wanted to pretend for a minute that he knew who he was.

“Hey,” Adam said softly, jiggling him a little bit, “you falling asleep?”

“Mmm,” Kris mumbled, “you’re comfy.”

Adam chuckled, then said, “Do you want me to go?”

Kris stiffened and his fingers reflexively tightened in Adam’s t-shirt before he could stop them. He forced himself to pull away from Adam and sit up. He rubbed his face. “Sorry, you probably need to get going.” He twisted the band on his wrist and checked his watch. “You’ve been babysitting me all day.”

“You gonna be okay?”

“Yeah, of course,” Kris said with a forced cheerfulness he didn’t feel. “Great,” he added for extra emphasis. “Super.” He poked the photo album as if this whole mess was its fault.

“That was not really very convincing,” Adam said.

Kris offered a sheepish grin over his shoulder at being so transparent. “No, I just need to . . . .” He looked around at all the stuff that was his even though he didn’t remember any of it. “. . . get used to everything.”

He felt like he was a visitor in someone else’s home (someone else’s _life_ ), and it was disorienting. Kris told Adam that, because for some reason he felt comfortable telling Adam even the most private, scary, and ridiculous things.

Adam nodded his understanding. “I can see how you’d feel that way. You’re welcome to come home with me, if you want. You probably shouldn’t be alone right now, anyway.”

Kris shook his head and declined. “I don’t want to impose.” He wasn’t sure how _sincere_ he sounded, because right now he really, really wanted to impose. “I could, I could probably stay with Allison. She sounded happy to see me, right?”

“You’d be trading one strange place for another. At least at my place you’re not _supposed_ to recognize anything.”

Kris huffed out a humorless laugh. “I guess. You really wouldn’t mind?”

“I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t want to. What do you say?”

“I say . . . thank you,” Kris said. He felt a little bit foolish at needing the comfort of Adam’s apartment. And Adam. But not enough to turn him down a second time.

“Then it’s settled. Go pack a bag.” Adam gestured towards the file box. “We’ll take this stuff with us and worry about it later.”

Kris didn’t know how long he’d be at Adam’s (how long the invitation was good for), so he threw several pair of jeans, t-shirts, briefs and socks along with a hoodie into a duffel he’d found in the closet. He grabbed his contact case and solution off the bathroom sink, and then met Adam back in the living room.

Adam had stacked the photo album on top of the file box. Kris looked at it with trepidation.

Adam shrugged. “I thought something in there my shake loose a memory or something.”

Kris nodded.

“We don’t have to . . . .”

“No, that’s fine, you’re right.”

As much as he might want to, Kris couldn’t hide from his past forever. He picked up the file box and left the photo album for Adam to carry.

“Did you want to take your guitar, or anything else?”

Kris glanced back at the guitar sitting ominously in the corner of the flower print chair. He shook his head. “No, I’m good.”

~*~*~*~

They used the panic button to locate Kris’ car, a Ford Fusion. Adam looked it over, then looked at Kris.

“You’re environmentally conscious. Why does that not surprise me?”

Kris made a face and shrugged.

Adam drove them to his apartment because Kris didn’t know the way, and the thought of driving on streets he didn’t remember did not appeal to him. When they stepped inside the familiar haven of Adam’s one room apartment Kris felt as if a weight had been lifted off his chest.

Kris sat his duffel out of the way at the end of the sofa, and the file box on the coffee table. He tried to ignore the photo album Adam placed next to it.

“Okay,” Adam said. “Tea, because I think we could both use some, and then we’ll call your parents, and then we’ll do pizza and a movie.”

Adam handed Kris the DVD he pulled out of the inside pocket of his jacket. Kris chuckled when he recognized it as the DVD Adam had pointed out at his place. Kris tossed the DVD on the couch and followed Adam to the kitchen area. He tried to stay out of the way as Adam put on the water to boil, then got down two mugs and a wooden box stocked with different flavors of tea bags.

“Wanna get the spoons,” Adam said as he got out cream and lemon.

Kris found the spoons and then gave a humorless laugh as he pushed the drawer shut. When Adam gave him a questioning look, he said, “At least here I know where the spoons are.”

They sat at the kitchen table, hands curled around hot mugs as the tea bags steeped. Kris tried the tea plain, then with cream, then with lemon. He decided he liked it white, so Adam drank the one with lemon.

Because he was tired of thinking about a past he couldn’t remember, Kris asked Adam to tell him something about himself. By the time they finished their tea Kris had learned that Adam grew up in San Diego, had always loved to play dress up, sang at a supper club a couple nights a week while hoping for bigger and better things, and his hair color was naturally a strawberry blond.

“That explains the freckles on your lips,” Kris said without thinking, and then blushed at Adam’s smirk.

“You’ve been looking at my lips?”

Kris shook his head and screwed up his face as he gave Adam a very unconvincing, “No.”

Eventually the tea was gone and it was time for the next item on their agenda. Kris wanted to be annoyed that Adam was pushing him to do this, because there was no way it wouldn’t be awkward, but Kris knew that he needed to do it, if for no other reason than that the sound of their voices might trigger something.

Kris took the phone Adam handed him and stared at it for a few seconds as he tried to figure out how he’d open the conversation, tell his parents that he didn’t remember them. It would be easier (for all of them) if they heard it from someone else. Kris glanced at Adam, then dragged his gaze away, taking in the photos and posters that Adam had hung on his walls. He couldn’t ask Adam to do this, he’d already done so much for him.

Kris thumbed the first number, and then hesitated long enough for Adam to gently take the phone out of his hand.

“Adam, I can, I can do it,” Kris protested weakly as he made a half-hearted attempt to take back the phone. “I’m just trying to figure out how to tell them, I mean, they’ll recognize my voice, and probably be excited to hear from me, and then I’ve got to tell them . . . .”

“Yeah, I can see how that would be awkward,” Adam agreed. “Want me to break the news for you?”

“You’ve done too much already,” Kris said, but he was pretty sure from Adam’s smile that he hadn’t sounded sincere.

“Stop with the puppy eyes,” Adam said. “You’re killing me here.” And then he said, “Ready?” and dialed without giving Kris a chance to stop him.

Kris listened almost in a haze as Adam’s soft voice tried to gently explain Kris’ current predicament. He couldn’t make out the words, but he heard the exclamation of concern from the other end. The woman, his mom, recovered quickly and started asking questions. Kris probably could’ve answered them, but he was content to sit back and let Adam handle it.

Finally Adam glanced at Kris and said, “Yeah, he’s right here.”

Adam held out the phone and Kris took it, surprised that his hand wasn’t shaking. He pressed the phone to his ear and said, “Mom?”

The woman’s voice broke when she said, “Kris, sweetheart.”

“I’m okay,” Kris assured her, because she sounded like she needed to hear that.

“How’s your poor head?”

“It’s okay,” Kris said, reaching up absently to press his fingertips to the bump. “A little bit of a headache. Adam keeps pushing aspirin on me.”

Kris glanced at Adam from the corner of his eyes and Adam grinned back at him.

“That’s good. He sounds nice.”

Even though Adam couldn’t hear what she’d said, Kris felt heat color his skin. “He is,” Kris said, forcing his eyes to look away from Adam.

“Adam told me they took your wallet and that you can’t remember . . . anything. What can I . . . what do you need, sweetie?”

“There’s a couple things,” Kris said. “The first thing, I guess, is my cell phone got broken. We went through some files, but I didn’t see anything about . . . .”

Kim Allen explained that Kris was still on a family plan with his parents and brother, and sent them a check every month for his share of the bill. She offered to call the company and have the phone replaced, and she’d see if he could pick it up at a local store.

Kris mentioned that he’d have to get his license replaced, and asked if she knew what else he carried in his wallet that might need replacing. When he couldn’t think of anything else to ask, and she didn’t have anything new to offer, Kris said, “Tell me something . . . about me.”

There was a noise from the other end of the line that sounded like a sniffle before she started talking, telling Kris about how he learned to play the guitar one summer without telling anyone when he was 13, went on mission trips when he was in college, broke up with his girlfriend when he realized he was gay, played bars in Conway before moving to LA to pursue his music.

Kris’ head started to throb with all the information he was trying to process. Before it could become a pounding headache Adam was there with two aspirin and a glass of water. Kris took them gratefully and smiled his thanks up at Adam.

Kim Allen (it still felt weird to think of her as his mom) realized that Kris’ silence had gone from interested in what she was telling him, to overwhelmed with it all. She let Kris go, however reluctantly, after making him promise to call them if he needed anything.

Adam was there as soon as Kris disconnected the call, sinking down on the couch beside him and raising his arm so Kris could lean against him and bury his face in Adam’s chest. He just wanted to close his eyes and forget this day, the irony of which did not escape him.

His stomach had other ideas. Adam chuckled when it growled loudly, and said, “Pizza?”

“Mmm,” Kris agreed, slipping the phone into Adam’s hand so he could call. “No peppers.”

They were both silent for a moment as they contemplated one more memory, however insignificant, slotting into place. Adam pressed a kiss to the top of Kris’ head.

“No peppers,” he agreed.

Kris was too comfortable to move, and Adam didn’t appear to mind having Kris leaning against him, so they chilled on the couch until the doorbell rang, signaling the arrival of their pizza. They separated and Adam stood. He plucked the DVD case off the coffee table and dropped it in Kris’ lap.

“I’ll get the pizza, you put that in.”

~*~*~*~

Kris woke with his face buried in a pillow that smelled like Adam. He raised his head and blearily looked around. He was lying on the couch, covered with a blanket. He remembered falling asleep on Adam and being too tired to pull out the couch.

Kris sat up and rubbed his eyes, embarrassed at how easy it had been to lean against Adam after they’d polished off the pizza, how comfortable. He found his glasses on the coffee table and slipped them on. Adam was still in bed and Kris didn’t want to wake him, but his bladder was being insistent.

When he came out of the bathroom there was a rough, groggy, “Coffee?” from beneath the comforter.

Kris chuckled softly, then padded over to the kitchen area. He stared at the coffee maker. He’d watched Adam do this yesterday; surely it wasn’t that difficult. He hummed under his breath as he measured out coffee grounds and water, and then turned on the machine. He took a step back just in case it exploded (not that he thought it would), but when it just dripped happily along Kris got out mugs, and cream and sugar.

While he waited for the coffee to finish perking, Kris studied the inside of the refrigerator. The least he could do was make Adam breakfast to thank him for letting Kris crash on his couch. Eggs and toast was pretty simple. Maybe French toast . . .

Kris screamed, jumped, and slammed the refrigerator door shut when a hand landed on his shoulder. He clutched at his chest, making sure his heart hadn’t leapt out, and tried to glare at Adam.

“Sorry,” Adam said.

He’d wrapped the blanket from the couch around his shoulders and his hair stuck up on one side. He looked torn between concern that he might have given Kris a stroke, and amusement. “I thought you heard me get up.”

Kris shook his head. “No.”

Just then the coffee machine gave a last gurgle and stopped dripping. Adam’s eyes lit up. “Coffee,” he breathed reverently.

“Sit.” Kris pushed Adam towards the table, then poured him a cup of coffee and set it, along with the cream, sugar and a spoon, on the table in front of him.

Adam’s moan of pleasure at the first sip did very interesting and embarrassing things to Kris.

“So worth having to listen to you snore through the movie last night,” Adam teased.

“What? I did not!” Kris said indignantly. “Did I?”

Adam gave Kris an enigmatic smile and refused to answer. He changed the subject. “What were you looking for in the fridge?”

Kris blushed. “I was going to make you breakfast.”

“That’s it,” Adam said, pounding his fist lightly on the table, “I’m keeping you.”

Kris’ flush heated up enough that he wished he could stick his head in the freezer.

After breakfast (Adam opted for the French toast, and savored his coffee while watching Kris mix together eggs and milk and cinnamon and vanilla), and waiting _forever_ for Adam to do his hair (“Perfection takes time, you heathen!”), they addressed the replacement of Kris’ cell phone and driver’s license.

Luckily he was able to request a replacement license from the California Department of Motor Vehicle’s website, since Kris wasn’t sure how he’d be able to explain his lack of memory to the normally unsympathetic people who worked there.

By the time they walked out of the Apple store, though, Kris’ headache was returning.

“At least we don’t have to go back,” Adam soothed as he steered Kris into a dimly lit restaurant and led him to a booth in the back. He ordered water from their server, and then dropped two aspirin from the ever present bottle into Kris’ palm.

Kris smiled despite the looming headache, and said, “Thanks, Mom.”

Adam kicked him under the table with the pointed toe of his boot.

“Ow!” Kris said, laughing as he tried in vain to pay Adam back since his sneakers didn’t deliver quite the same punch.

After they ordered, Adam snagged Kris’ phone and programmed his number into it. He then sent himself a text so he could add Kris’ number to his own contacts. Watching Adam concentrate on his task gave Kris a warm fuzzy feeling in his belly.

“I have to go to work tonight,” Adam told Kris later, as he stole a french fry from his plate.

“At the supper club?” Kris asked as he studied Adam’s plate for something to steal, but Adam had already eaten all the good stuff out of his salad. “Where is that?”

Adam told Kris about the club he worked at, and then said, “You can go with me tonight if you want.”

“Really? I’d love to! Are you sure that would be okay?”

After a stop by Kris’ apartment for a pair of black slacks and a white button up (supper club appropriate attire) they returned to Adam’s apartment. Adam spent a couple hours returning texts while Kris sat on the floor in front of the couch and went through the files in the box to try and reacquaint himself with . . . himself.

Adam was still busy with his phone when Kris put the last file away. He leaned his head back against the cushion and thought about his own job. He was afraid he wouldn’t remember how to play the guitar, and he didn’t know the first thing about mixing drinks, but he couldn’t go indefinitely without a paycheck.

Adam pushed his fingers through Kris’ hair. Kris opened his eyes and looked up at Adam, smiled.

“What are you thinking about?”

Kris sighed. “Work. How hard can it be to learn how to mix drinks?”

“If it’s any consolation, you already learned how to do it once.”

Kris mushed his lips up. It wasn’t, really.

Adam checked the time, then jumped off the couch. “I need to start getting ready.”

“So early?” Kris said, then parroted right along with Adam, “Perfection takes time!”

Kris thought Adam was pretty perfect without the fuss, but he didn’t say so. Adam showered first, and then Kris took his while Adam did his hair. He looked at Kris askance when he merely combed his fingers through his hair, and then made him stand still while he applied gel, and then pushed and pulled Kris’ hair until finally giving it his stamp of approval.

Kris mumbled his thanks, and then quickly escaped before Adam could notice his reaction to being up close and personal with Adam’s bare chest, and to having Adam’s hands in his hair. He got dressed and sat on the couch, flipped through channels until he found a sports news show, and tried not to imagine Adam in the bathroom, making himself even more beautiful.

Adam normally took the bus, but because there was parking they left early so Kris could drive them. Kris thought that his hands might have become permanently fused to the steering wheel by the time they arrived. Driving came back to Kris easily, but he wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to driving in LA. As soon as they got inside the club, Adam dragged Kris to the bar and ordered him a beer.

“You okay?”

Kris had a tough time uncurling his fingers so he could pick up the bottle. Adam took his hand and massaged it between his own.

“That _sucked_ ,” Kris said, not for the first time.

“It could’ve been worse,” Adam said, “you could’ve been on the freeway.”

Kris just glared at him.

Adam stayed with Kris until it was time for him to go on. Kris should have known that Adam would be amazing. _Of course_ he would be. From the moment Adam picked up the microphone Kris couldn’t take his eyes off him. He sang songs that Kris didn’t remember, and others that slotted back into his memory as if they’d never left.

When the last note faded and Adam was thanking the audience, Kris had to hook his feet around the barstool legs to keep from standing up and clapping madly. All bets were off, though, when Adam got close enough for Kris to tackle him. Adam laughed and hugged him back.

“You were . . . awesome,” Kris said, “just amazing. I can’t believe you can sing like this, and you didn’t tell me!”

Adam shrugged, but didn’t release Kris. “It’s not much.”

“It’s not . . . !” Kris sputtered, and then punched Adam on the shoulder. “It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard.

“Thank you,” Adam said, and was kind enough not to remind Kris that his memory was exactly two days old.

~*~*~*~

After his shift at the supper club Adam took Kris to a club, and (to Kris’ relief) this time he drove. Kris was afraid he’d feel trapped with so many people in an enclosed space, but it was actually freeing, being in a group of people who knew less about Kris than he did.

Adam took Kris by the wrist and pulled him through the crowd to the bar. Kris got propositioned once, and his ass felt up . . . more than once, and he was beet red by the time they reached the bar. Adam just laughed when Kris told him what had happened, and then pulled him in under his arm and pressed a kiss to the side of his head.

Adam only gave Kris a one beer cushion before dragging him out onto the dance floor despite Kris’ protests that he couldn’t dance.

“You never know until you try,” Adam said.

Kris hadn’t been wrong, but Adam didn’t care. He laughed when Kris flailed and acted like a spaz, and a couple of times Kris thought maybe Adam’s eyes were filled with something other than amusement.

Kris was concentrating, trying to make his hips move like Adam’s, when someone bumped him from behind. He went flying into Adam, who recovered quickly, catching Kris in his arms and drawing him close, as if that had been his intent all along.

Kris gasped as their bodies came into contact, and his hands fell on Adam’s shoulder as he reached out to catch himself. Moving fluidly and sexy was a lot easier pressed up against Adam, Adam’s hands and hips guiding Kris’ movements.

Adam leaned down so his lips brushed Kris’ ear. He had to yell to be heard over the music and people, but it still made Kris shiver when Adam said, “See, you’re a natural!” and then gave him a sultry smile.

Kris went a little bit boneless and gave himself up to Adam’s capable hands. He tried very hard not to imagine what _else_ Adam’s hands were capable of, but with their bodies sliding together it was difficult. Kris clutched at Adam’s shoulders and let his hands drop to Adam’s waist. Adam slid one hand around Kris’ hip to his ass and tugged, as if there was any way they could get any closer.

And yet somehow they did. Kris bit his bottom lip, unsuccessfully attempting to hold back the moan as his head fell back. Adam spoke, but Kris only heard every other word, his ability to concentrate tossed out the window as Adam’s lips moved against his skin.

“. . . don’t even know . . . .”

Kris turned his face, intending to ask Adam what he’d said, but Adam turned his face as well, and Adam’s lips were right there. So Kris kissed him.

Adam froze for just a second, looking at Kris as if he couldn’t believe he’d done that, and then his gaze fell to Kris’ lips when Kris licked them. He moaned, and Kris might’ve thought he was in pain if not for the way his hand slid over Kris’ ass as they continued to move together.

Kris said, “Adam,” and broke whatever spell had frozen Adam in place.

Adam brought their mouths back together. He nibbled at Kris’ lips and then licked his way into Kris’ mouth. Kris fell into it, letting Adam take him apart with lips and tongue, with the way his hands flexed on Kris’ ass, and the way their groins ground together.

It was a kiss like Kris had never experienced before, wild and sensual and oh so _good_. It didn’t matter that Kris only had two days of memories, he knew he’d never been kissed like this before in his life. He’d never have forgotten being kissed the way Adam was kissing him now.

One song bled into the next, and Kris had no idea how long they remained on the dance floor. His entire world had narrowed down to the places he and Adam touched. The warmth of a large hand guiding his hips, lips creating a trail of fire down his neck, nearly unbearable heat where their groins rubbed together. Finally Adam led them off the dance floor. He parted the crowd easily, pulling Kris along in his wake.

Kris didn’t remember much of the drive back to Adam’s place. He might have been concerned if the jumble of memories he did have – Adam’s hand sliding up the inside of his thigh, Kris trying to crawl into Adam’s lap as they kissed at a red light, Adam’s fingers in Kris’ hair as he promised, “Shh, baby, I’ll take care of you.” – weren’t sliding through him like molten lava.

And even later it was all heat and, “So perfect,” and the slide of skin on skin. Kris fell into sleep surrounded by Adam, held tight in his arms, the smell of sex still on their skin. For the first time since this nightmare began, Kris felt like he was right where he belonged.

~*~*~*~

“Last night was a mistake.”

Adam had already been up when Kris woke. He smelled coffee, so he slipped out of bed and wandered to the kitchen area. Adam’s eyes went really wide when he saw Kris, naked. His gaze slid down Kris’ body with a gratifying appreciation, then snapped back to his eyes.

Kris stepped in for a kiss, but Adam caught him by the arms and held him away.

“Sit,” Adam said, pressing Kris into a chair. It was cold against Kris’ bare skin, but he barely felt it because his entire body went cold when Adam uttered the infamous words, “We need to talk.”

Adam poured a cup of coffee for Kris, and fixed it the way he liked it. He set it on the table in front of him, and then took the chair opposite. Kris wrapped his hands around the cup. He couldn’t breathe, much less drink, but he needed the warmth of it.

They sat in an uncomfortable silence for a few seconds before Adam said, “Last night was a mistake.”

Kris missed the next thing Adam said, unable to hear anything through the blood pounding in his ears. There was something about _gratitude_ and _wrong time_ and _don’t know who you are_.

Adam reached out and closed his hand over one of Kris’. “You understand, right?”

Kris didn’t understand anything right then, but he nodded because he didn’t know what else to do.

Adam smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Well, then, good. Listen, I’ve got an audition this morning, so I have to get ready and run, but we’ll talk later, okay?”

Kris nodded dumbly. He stared into his coffee as Adam got up, rinsed out his cup, then went to shower. Kris spent the next 45 minutes trying to get his poker face on. He heard the shower turn on, then off, as if no time had passed at all.

He’d never really understood what people meant when they said they’d gone numb until this moment. Numb was a really strange feeling, but Kris didn’t want it to end because he had a very bad feeling that what came next would be far worse.

The comfort he’d felt yesterday around Adam, in Adam’s apartment, was gone, so Kris stayed at the kitchen table while Adam did his hair and lined his eyes. He listened as Adam moved around, getting dressed, putting on his boots, grabbing his jacket out of the small overstuffed closet, but he didn’t move.

“Kris?”

Adam sounded worried, but Kris couldn’t bring himself to care. When Adam touched his shoulder, it felt like he’d been branded.

“We’ll talk later, okay?”

“Sure,” Kris said, not even bothering to try and make it sound convincing.

The touch was gone, followed by the sound of Adam’s footsteps hollow against the floor, and then the door clicking shut behind him. Kris didn’t know how much time passed before he even tried to move. He flexed his fingers first, then slowly unstuck himself from the chair as his joints and muscles unfroze.

Kris dumped his cold coffee in the sink and rinsed out the cup. He shuffled to the bathroom and stood under water as hot as he could stand it until the ice holding him frozen started to melt. Kris got dressed in a haze, and then threw everything into his duffel. He stacked it next to the file box and the photo album he’d never even opened, then looked around Adam’s apartment for pen and paper. He stared at it a long time before he started writing.

  
_Thank you. For everything. You’re right, I guess if I’m going to figure out who I am, I have to do it on my own. Kris_   


He left the note on the table, then gathered up his things. If his eyes burned as he closed the door behind him, Kris told himself that it was just because of the pollution in LA.

 

Part 2

It took Kris half an hour and two wrong turns to make it to O’Riley’s Pub. He’d been aiming for his apartment, but Kris figured beggars couldn’t be choosers. His legs shook a little bit when he got out of the car, but he supposed he’d eventually get used to driving in LA. He’d done it before, right?

There was no one in the front of the pub when Kris entered, so he called out, “Hello?”

A couple seconds later Blake poked his head out from the back. “Kris, hey! What’s up?”

Kris stuffed his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “I, uh, was wondering if I still have a job.”

“Of course,” Blake said, stepping out into the front room of the pub, “anytime you’re ready.”

Kris hoped his utter relief didn’t show on his face. If Blake hadn’t kept him on, Kris didn’t know what he’d have done. Still, in the interest of full disclosure, Kris said, “I don’t remember anything about tending bar.”

Blake grinned and waved away Kris’ concern. “You didn’t know anything about tending bar when you started, but you were a quick learner. I’m sure you’ll have no problem picking it up again. How about tomorrow?”

“What?”

“I’ve got deliveries this morning, otherwise I’d . . . .”

“Oh, no, tomorrow’s fine.”

“Okay, come in early, you can help me set up and we’ll go over the bar set up, mixed drinks and so on, and then you can work lunch with me. It’s normally slow enough that you can get some practice in without getting overwhelmed.”

“Yeah, okay, that sounds good, thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” Blake said, “I’d have hated to lose you.”

It was said simply, but it made Kris feel warm inside. He turned away to leave, then turned back.

“Uh, Blake?” Kris rubbed the back of his neck. “Can you tell me how to get to my apartment from here? I don’t even know how I got here,” he rushed on, “and traffic in LA sucks!”

Blake laughed. “You drove?”

“Yeah, why?”

Blake just shrugged and, still grinning, gave Kris directions to his apartment.

Kris had the urge to fall on his knees and kiss the ground when he finally pulled into a parking spot a block from his apartment building. When he walked into his living room and unloaded his stuff onto the couch, it still didn’t feel any more like home than it had before. And his guitar stared at him accusingly from the other end of the couch, as if blaming him for leaving it alone.

To get away from its reproachful glare, Kris grabbed his duffel and carried it into the bedroom. He unpacked it, putting the clean clothes away and dumping the dirty into the laundry basket sitting on the floor of the closet. He quickly shut off that line of thought when his mind flashed on Adam as Kris handled the pants and shirt he’d worn to the supper club the night before.

As he tossed the duffel back onto the shelf in the closet, it struck Kris that he didn’t know where he did laundry (did the building have washers and dryers in the basement, or did he have to schlep everything to a laundr-o-mat?), or where he shopped for groceries (not that he did much of that, given then near empty state of his refrigerator, so maybe he should be more concerned with where he ordered his take out), or where he did his banking.

Before he could let it all overwhelm him, Kris slapped the closet door shut and went back out to the living room. Out there the guitar and photo album still stared at him, so Kris escaped to the kitchen.

The garbage was starting to stink, so he pulled the bag out, gave the take out containers in the fridge the sniff test and added them, then tied it off and went out to the hall where he remembered passing a garbage chute. Since he was already out in the hallway, Kris decided to look for the laundry room. He finally found the washers and dryers in the basement, which meant he didn’t have to lug everything down the street. One bright spot in an otherwise crappy day. That, plus he still had a job.

He no longer had to worry about finding a laundr-o-mat, but he still needed to know where he got his groceries, and wanted to know what shops, restaurants, and other businesses were located in the neighborhood in which he lived. Instead of returning to his apartment, Kris set out to explore.

There were several restaurants (Chinese, Italian, Indian, a bar and grill where Kris figured he could get a good burger, and a pizza place), a small bookstore, an accountant, the laundry Kris didn’t need, and a small grocery with fresh fruit and vegetables set up on a stand outside.

His stomach reminded him that he hadn’t eaten breakfast, so back at his apartment Kris popped one of the frozen dinners in the microwave. He used the plate and fork that had been in the dish drainer, but had to pull out several drawers in his search for a knife.

Kris carried his plate out to the living room. He sorted through the CDs and chose six that he loaded into the stereo and set on shuffle. He sat on the couch and stared at the photo album, then opened the cover as he dug into the dinner.

The album was thin, and all the pictures had Kris in them. The last page was covered with scribbled well wishes from friends and family he didn’t remember, like, “Best wishes for success in LA!”; “Break a leg!”; “I’ll miss you!”; and “Don’t knock anyone up.” which made Kris chuckle.

He flipped back to the beginning and went through the book more slowly, reading the captions someone, probably his mother (making up this book of memories seemed like something a mother would do) had written in beneath or beside each photograph.

All-State Orchestra.

Singing in church.

Leaving for Thailand.

Skinny-dipping in the pool. (Yes, boys, we heard all about this.)

By the time he was done, Kris felt like he knew an awful lot about this guy Kris Allen, but not very much about _himself_.

He washed the few dishes he’d dirtied and left them to dry in the dish drainer. Kris walked back out to the living room and just stood there, looking around and wondering what he should do next. He found himself singing along softly with the song that had come on, and his eyes were drawn to the guitar he’d been ignoring.

His phone rang, and Kris fumbled it out of his pocket, part of him hoping it might be Adam. He looked at the screen, which displayed, “Mom.” Kris glanced at the guitar once more before answering the call.

“Hello?”

“Hey, sweetie, how are you?”

Kris shrugged even though she couldn’t see him. “Good, I guess.”

She ignored his hesitancy. “That’s good. I just wanted to make sure you got your phone alright.”

“Yeah, yeah, I did.” Kris didn’t tell her that it had taken two clerks, a manager and one call to the Conway office to get things straightened out. “Thanks. I should’ve called.”

“No, that’s not . . . I know you’ve got a lot on your mind right now.”

Kris snorted.

“No pun intended.”

Kris laughed out loud. It felt like it had been along time since he’d laughed, and he tried not to think about how much of it might be hysterical. When he had himself under control, he said, “I looked at that photo album you made.”

“Oh, good! What did you think?”

“It’s really nice,” Kris said, “and it looks like I had a lot of friends, and a lot of fun times.”

“Oh, sweetie, you did. You still do.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course, anything.”

“Can you tell me about Thailand and the other mission trips?”

Kim Allen started talking. Her voice got thick with tears when she told the story of Kris nearly dying in Morocco, and then filled with pride when she explained that he’d given away his guitar in Thailand because he’d felt it was the right thing to do. When she exhausted that topic Kris asked about Daniel and Katy and his other friends, and tried to match the stories she told him to the images in the photos.

“I don’t even wanna know about the skinny-dipping,” Kris said, and his mother laughed. Kris looked at the photos of her and tried to imagine it, and wished he just _knew_ what she looked like when she laughed.

Kris’ mother handed the phone over to his father, and they spoke for a few minutes. His dad told him about mowing the lawn, and fixing the truck, and Daniel’s girl troubles at college, and going to church the day before as if Kris had any idea what he was talking about. Finally he fell silent, then managed a choked up, “Love you, son,” before Kris’ mom was back on the phone.

“He’s alright,” she said softly, “you know how emotional your dad gets.”

Kris thought it would be callous to remind her that he didn’t.

“Have you been playing your guitar, sweetie?” she said, surprising Kris with the question.

“No,” Kris said, purposely not looking at the item in question.

“You used to play when you were upset. It made you feel better.”

“What . . . ?” Kris had to swallow hard before he could continue. “What if I don’t remember how to play?”

Instead of offering empty platitudes, she said, “You taught yourself how to play once before, you could do it again if you had to. I have faith in you, Kris, and I love you very much.”

~*~*~*~

Kris took a shower before going to bed, trying to wash away the disappointments of the day. He sniffed shampoo and shower gel to see if they brought back any memories (he remembered hearing that scent-memory was the strongest), but all it did was remind him of the way Adam’s bathroom smelled.

Kris set the alarm before rolling over and burying his face in a pillow that didn’t smell special at all. When the alarm went off the sun was shining and Kris’ heart was beating as if he’d had a bad dream, though he couldn’t remember if he had. He slapped off the alarm, then pushed himself out of bed and padded to the bathroom to pee.

Kris washed his hands as he stared at his blurry reflection in the mirror, then ducked his head and splashed his face in an attempt to wake up. He brushed his teeth, put in his contacts, and wet his hair. He tried to pull it into some semblance of order until doing so reminded him of Adam.

Blake hadn’t mentioned any kind of uniform, and Kris didn’t see any t-shirts that sported the name of the pub in his closet, so he just pulled on a pair of blue jeans and a blue t-shirt with his sneakers, then went to the kitchen to make toast. He wondered, as he waited for the bread to pop up, if he liked to cook. Given the limited stock in his cupboards – bread, peanut butter and cereal – he figured it was a safe bet that he didn’t.

Kris debated driving to work, then decided that he had enough time to walk. Not only would it be good exercise, it meant he wouldn’t start his workday with a headache. Blake was behind the bar staring at the coffee maker when Kris’ eyes adjusted enough for him to make anything out.

“Morning,” Blake said, looking at Kris over his shoulder.

“Morning,” Kris replied, sliding onto one of the stools.

Kris waited for Blake to pour a mug of coffee, take an inordinate amount of time enjoying the aroma (“You want me to leave you two alone?” “Nobody likes a wise ass this early in the morning.”), and take his first sip before he said, “So where do we start?”

“Eager?”

Kris shrugged. “I hate not knowing . . . stuff I should know.”

Blake studied Kris’ face, then nodded. “Okay, set up,” he said, then went on to explain about stocking the bar.

He took Kris to the back and showed him the stock room and explained how everything was stored. They returned to the bar and Blake had Kris go through the beer cooler and shelved liquor, and make a list of what items he thought needed to be restocked. Blake went over the list and praised Kris for what he’d gotten right, and explained those items where he’d miscalculated.

Once Blake was satisfied with the numbers, they loaded bottles into old milk crates and carried them out to the bar for the actual restocking. After they’d returned the crates to the stockroom, Blake said, “Okay, now tell me what bottled beer we sell.”

Kris closed his eyes, the better to envision the interior of the coolers he’d just restocked, and rattled off a list of beers. When he finished, Blake was smiling.

“Now do it with your eyes open.”

Kris memorized the bottled and draft beers, and then they stocked up on the garnishes. As they sliced oranges and lemons, and chiffonaded (a word he learned from Blake) the lemon peel, Blake chatted about which mixed drinks got which garnishes.

While they set up and reacquainted Kris with the mechanics of tending bar, the cook and server working the lunch shift arrived and started to get ready. Blake told Kris that the menu was pretty simple; typical bar fare – burgers, wings, sandwiches. There was one cook on for lunch, because Tuesdays were pretty slow, and one server.

Blake introduced him to Michael Sarver, who was as quiet as he was broad shouldered. He shook Kris’ hand and said, “Heard about the mugging. Sorry about your memory loss. Let me know if I can do anything,” and then disappeared into the kitchen.

Blake raised his eyebrows. “That’s the most I’ve heard him say all at once.”

The server was a young kid with dark hair who Blake introduced as Archie. He never stopped smiling, even when Blake teased him about the song he was singing while he put the chairs down and set out salt and pepper shakers, sugar packets, and a small tea light candle holder on each table.

Garnishes done, Blake told Kris how to pull a beer without getting too much head on it, sanitize the water they used to wash the glasses and wipe down the counters, and how to measure a shot. Kris felt like his brain was going to explode. When Blake dropped a bottle of aspirin in his palm and pushed a bottle of water at him, Kris thought of Adam.

Kris was surprised how many people came in to the pub between 11am when they opened, and 2pm when Blake took pity on him and sent him home. Kris opened his mouth to argue, but Blake beat him to it.

“It’s a lot to take in. Don’t worry, you’re doing great.” He dropped a large hand on Kris’ shoulder and squeezed.

Blake fished the cash out of the tip jar all the bar tips went into (he’d explained earlier that the bartenders shared tips, as did the servers), counted it, then handed it to Kris. “It’s not much, but it’ll buy you some food. I know you don’t keep much in your cupboards.”

Kris looked at the bills in his hands, mostly ones, so probably no more than $25, but still, “We’re supposed to split this.” He held out the small wad.

Blake closed his paw over Kris’ hand. “Keep it. Just don’t forget to write it down for taxes. You’ve got a notebook at home someplace. Not all of it, mind, maybe 75%.”

Kris nodded; he’d seen that notebook in the file box, but hadn’t known what it was for. Before he left, Kris asked Blake if he knew at which branch of the bank he’d seen on his statements and checkbook he did his banking. Blake did know – Kris used a branch not far from the pub, and he normally used his debit card at the ATM for withdrawals and deposits.

Something else that would need replacing, Kris thought morosely. Blake took Kris’ hand and dropped a couple dollars worth of quarters in his palm.

“For your laundry.”

Kris smiled.

~*~*~*~

Kris decided to put off going to the bank until the morning, when he wasn’t already feeling overwhelmed. He stopped at the grocer on the way home and picked up milk (he’d had to dump the milk down the drain after a sniff test that morning), bread (he’d had to cut some of the crust off because it had started to mold), some apples, and a carton of Rocky Road. Kris assumed he wasn’t allergic to nuts since he had peanut butter in his cupboard.

Kris put his few groceries away, and then got out his tips notebook. He counted the cash and recorded the amount for that day. Aside from making supper, the rest of the afternoon and evening loomed ahead of him. He wondered what he normally did. His eyes moved towards the ominous presence of the guitar, and Kris jerked them away.

His brain was tired. He didn’t feel like watching TV or reading (and he didn’t really want to be in his own apartment), but he thought that fresh air might help. He went back outside, picked a direction and started walking.

Kris was starving (Blake had told Kris that employees got one meal per shift gratis, but Kris had been too worked up at the time to eat anything) and sweaty (he was very grateful for the AC in his apartment) when he got back home. He put a frozen dinner in the oven, then hopped into the shower. He dressed in a pair of sweat pants and a t-shirt, and munched on a freshly rinsed apple while the dinner finished heating.

Kris put in another stack of CDs and sorted through a pile of DVDs while he ate. He cleaned up, then went through the books on his shelf. Only when he had no other excuse not to, Kris turned to look at the guitar. He felt like it was staring him down.

Kris shook his head and sighed at his own melodrama, then picked up the guitar and sat on the couch. He settled the guitar on his lap and ran his hand along the neck, just trying to get a feel for it. He positioned his fingers on the frets and strummed the strings. He repositioned his fingers and strummed again. A sort of peace settled over him and suddenly Kris just _knew_ how to do this.

Kris closed his eyes and played, afraid that if he tried to look at what his fingers were doing he’d fumble it. He played songs he knew, and those he didn’t recognize even though his fingers seemed to know exactly what they were doing. He played until the tips of his fingers were red and sore despite the calluses.

He only stopped playing when his body made it clear that it required sleep. Kris set the guitar aside, reluctant to quit now that he’d started, and stretched to get all the kinks out. He touched the guitar as he walked around the couch, part of him afraid that whatever magic had allowed him to play that night would have evaporated come morning.

~*~*~*~

The next morning Kris slept later than he’d intended, and then had to rush because he wanted to stop at the bank before work. He hurried through a bowl of cereal and ate one of the apples he’d bought the day before during the walk.

Kris stepped into the bank lobby and looked around. There were several tellers behind the counter and a couple people sitting at desks, but he didn’t know who he needed to see. Just when he was going to go eenie, meenie, miney, moe, someone looked up at him and smiled.

“Good morning, Kris. What can I do for you today?”

“Um, hi.” Kris gratefully walked over to her desk. “I need to get a new debit card. Mine was, uh, stolen.”

“I can help you with that. Please have a seat.”

Kris sat. “Thank you.”

It took nearly as long at the bank as it had getting his cell phone replaced, but not because they needed him to fill out one more form or provide one more form of ID. As soon as Kris mentioned that he’d been mugged the woman (the nameplate on her desk said, ‘Janene Lewis, Customer Service’) was very sympathetic. By the time he left (after accidentally letting it slip that he couldn’t remember much from before the mugging) there were three women and one man offering him advice on how to get into his account online and change his password.

When Kris left he felt like he’d barely gotten out of there alive, despite how helpful they’d all been. When he told the story to Blake later, he just laughed, and then laughed harder when Kris said, “What?”

Already having one day under his belt, that morning’s set up went more smoothly. Blake drilled him on the beers he’d memorized yesterday and the drinks he’d learned to pour, and then continued his bartending education.

Allison came bounding in about one. She quivered like an excited puppy when she saw Kris behind the bar. She shouted, “Kris!” and the few people still sitting at the bar or in the booths glanced over. She just smiled when Blake gave her a look.

Allison climbed onto a stool and ordered a Coke, then said, “I’m so happy to see you,” when Kris delivered it.

Kris couldn’t help but smile in the face of her contagious good mood. “Thanks. But, wait, aren’t you supposed to be in school?” He remembered Blake yelling at Allison about homework, and while he knew he’d forgotten a lot, surely school was still a full day.

Allison wrinkled up her nose. “Summer school. Math.” She shuddered. “Mornings, Monday through Thursday.”

Kris nodded. He should’ve realized that, given that it was July.

“You weren’t here yesterday afternoon. Shopping?”

Allison pouted. “No more shopping until I pass this course, which really blows because I saw this awesome pair of lace gloves the other day. Purple, and they come up past the elbow,” Allison described them, showing Kris on her own arm. “They’re so rad.”

Kris nodded as if he understood everything she’d said, then said, “Rad, that’s good, right?”

Allison slapped his arm, then said, “Driver’s ed.” At Kris’ look of confusion she added, “Tuesday and Thursday afternoons.” She did a little shimmy on the stool. “I can’t wait to get my license!”

Kris couldn’t hide his shudder. “How can you want to drive in LA? It’s crazy!“

Allison laughed, then peered more closely at him. “Wait, you haven’t been driving, have you?”

“A couple times, yeah.”

“Kris, you _hate_ driving in LA!”

“Yeah, I sort of figured that out,” Kris said, glad his fear of driving in LA hadn’t been caused by the blow to his head.

Blake kicked Kris out again at two, much to Allison’s disappointment.

“You can put in a couple more hours tomorrow, meet Megan and get a feel for what it’ll be like working with someone else.”

Kris remembered Megan (the girl with the awesome tattoo sleeve) from Saturday when he and Adam had stopped in the pub, inadvertently discovering that he worked there. He nodded, even though he felt a bit of trepidation at meeting someone else. Which was ridiculous, since he’d been meeting new people for the past two days, but meeting people he already knew yet didn’t remember was nerve wracking because he felt like he should know them, and he could often feel their disappointment that he didn’t.

Kris felt differently after an hour of Megan and Allison telling stories that had Kris blushing. After one particularly embarrassing story about a guy who’d flirted with Kris for three hours, and then gave up and left because Kris wouldn’t catch a clue, Kris said, “That did not happen!” and turned to Blake for help.

Blake shrugged as if to say, sorry, can’t help. “You were a little bit clueless,” he said, and Allison laughed so hard she almost fell off her stool.

For one uncharitable second Kris thought that it would only take one little poke with his finger to topple her off balance. Instead he muttered, “I hate you all,” as he viciously wiped down the bar.

“You love us,” Megan said as she came up behind him and gave him a quick hug before moving down the bar to serve a customer. It wasn’t until she was gone that Kris realized it hadn’t felt weird at all. He glanced over at Allison, who was looking at him with an expression he couldn’t decipher. She blinked and looked down at the bar for a moment, and when she raised her face it was gone.

~*~*~*~

Allison was already at the pub when Kris got there Friday morning. She was putting the chairs under the tables, so Kris helped her.

“What are you doing here so early?”

Allison wrinkled her nose. “I have to do the dishes and clean my room.”

“And you’re here because . . . ?”

“Because I don’t want to.”

Kris laughed and Allison glared at him. Allison looked over his shoulder and mock groaned. Kris turned to see Allison’s mother standing inside the pub, giving her a look.

“You cannot hide from your mother, Allison. Kristopher, do not let her bother you.”

“She’s not,” Kris said, not missing Allison’s grateful expression.

“It’s good to see you,” Mrs. Iraheta said to Kris.

“You, too, Mama ‘heta,” Kris said, letting her enfold him in her arms.

At Allison’s gasp, Kris pulled back and looked at her. “What?”

“You called her Mama ‘heta!”

“Sorry, should I not have done that?”

“That’s what you used to call her.”

“And you absolutely should do that,” Mrs. I said, giving him another hug. “You,” she said, pointing at Allison after she released Kris, “chores, or no singing.”

Allison rolled her eyes. “I will, I promise.” She gave her mother a hug and kiss goodbye, and after she’d left turned to glare at Kris, one hand on her hip. “I can’t believe you remember her and not me.”

Kris shrugged helplessly.

Kris left the bar at five and was back by eight for Allison’s set. She had fixed her puppy eyes on Kris and he’d been unable to resist her request that he come watch her sing. First thing when he got back to his apartment he’d grabbed an apple and then went for a walk. He was enjoying the opportunity to familiarize himself with the neighborhood he lived in. A few people greeted him, and others smiled and waved, and he found himself wondering if he’d done this before.

After a shower, another frozen dinner (Kris was already getting sick of them and wondered if that’s all he normally ate), and an hour spent with his guitar, Kris was sitting at the end of the bar sipping the beer Megan had put in front of him and nibbling on pretzels.

There was another blonde behind the bar with Megan when Kris got there, and she introduced her as the Alexis Grace Kris had heard about from Blake.

Allison and her mother came in to the pub together. Allison bounced over to him as soon as she caught sight of him, and her mother followed at a more sedate pace.

“You came!” Allison twisted her fingers together as if she was afraid she’d reach out and touch him if she didn’t. Kris didn’t think about what the other him might have done, just held his arms out and let her rush into them.

The weird thing was that it didn’t feel weird at all. When they pulled apart, Kris pretended not to notice that she held on a second longer, or the tear she discreetly wiped from the corner of her eye.

Mrs. I greeted Kris with a hug and a kiss on the cheek, then took the glass of wine Megan poured without having to ask. She took her drink to the reserved table, and Blake came out to join her before Allison went on.

Kris didn’t know what to expect when Allison took the stage, but it wasn’t the powerful voice that came out of her small frame. His jaw fell open and nearly hit the bar. Megan laughed at his reaction.

“She’s something, isn’t she?”

“Wow. Just . . . wow.”

“You two have done a couple duets. You sound pretty good together.”

“Really?” Kris said. He’d added vocals when he practiced with the guitar, and he wasn’t bad, but his voice was nothing like Allison’s, and now that he’d heard it he couldn’t believe he’d be able to match his voice to hers.

While Kris was still trying to imagine he and Allison singing together, a guy wearing a fedora slid onto the stool beside his. He nodded at Kris.

“Evening, Kristopher. Hey, Megs.”

Megan set a tumbler of amber liquid in front of the newcomer. He sighed. “Marry me?”

Megan smiled. “Still no. And quit calling me Megs.”

She moved away down the bar and the guy turned to Kris. “I can’t believe I have to go on after Alli. Listen to the crowd.”

“Sorry?” Kris said.

“Oh. No. Sorry. I’m Matt. Matt Giraud. The piano man. I wasn’t thinking; Blake said . . . .”

The guy, Matt, made a gesture that could’ve meant that Kris had lost his memory, or he’d lost his mind. Either way, Kris thought it might fit, so he just nodded and took another sip of his beer.

Matt griped about his day job (telemarketing), and told a story about mustard and a tie that wasn’t as funny as he probably thought it was, but Kris gave him points for effort so he smiled anyway. Matt finished his drink, clapped Kris on the shoulder, “I gotta go get ready; let me know if there’s anything you need,” then called to Megan as he slid off the stool, “See you later, gorgeous!”

Kris watched Matt walk away towards the back of the pub, then looked back to see Megan looking at him oddly. “What?”

Megan just shrugged.

“So,” he said, “you and Matt?”

Megan laughed. “No, but it’s really cute that you think so.”

Kris couldn’t get her to tell him what she meant, and then he forgot about it when the whirlwind that was Allison appeared at his side.

“What did you think?” she asked, wide-eyed and breathless.

“You were _amazing_!” Kris said. “I can’t even . . . .” He poked her in the diaphragm. “Where does that voice even come from?”

Allison giggled and batted at Kris’ hand, then leaned into him. Megan showed up with a glass of Coke.

“Good job, kiddo.”

“Thanks, Megan.”

Allison giggled again and bounced on her toes, and Kris wondered if she was always so full of energy.

Just then Blake tapped the microphone to get everyone’s attention, and then announced Matt Giraud. There was some applause and some good-natured hoots. Allison watched Matt take the stage and sit at the piano, then called out something that Kris was pretty sure she hadn’t learned from her mother. In return Matt dedicated his first song to, “the lovely Allison,” and launched into ‘Pretty Woman’.

Allison clapped and squeed with delight. She swayed to the music until Matt finished the song, and then she clapped louder than anyone else in the pub. When Matt launched into his next song, Allison turned to Kris.

“So, did you meet Matt?”

“Yeah,” Kris said remembering Megan’s reaction, “why?”

Allison shrugged. “No reason,” she said, but she couldn’t quite pull off the lie.

“He thought Matt and I were an item,” Megan told her, and then both she and Kris jumped and grabbed for napkins when Allison snorted Coke out her nose.

“Oh my god,” Allison said after she’d cleaned herself up, “that was so not cool. But seriously, Matt and Megan?”

“What is so odd about that?”

“I’m not his type,” Megan said, smiling.

“Uh, okay?”

Megan and Allison continued to stare at him, and their smiles were starting to freak him the heck out.

“So the question is,” Allison prompted, “who _is_ his type?”

“Okay, I’ll bite,” Kris said, “who is his type?”

Neither girl spoke, just looked at Kris expectantly, clearly waiting for him to figure the answer out on his own. It was Megan’s smile that made the light bulb turn on.

“Wha–? Oh. Really?”

Megan chuckled at the expression on Kris’ face. “You know, I could never figure out if you were just that clueless, or if you were a nice guy and just pretended not to notice.”

Kris threw his hands up. “Then why are you telling me this now?”

“Hey,” Megan said, “you never know what’ll jog your memory. Matt could’ve been the love of your life.”

“Oh, god,” Kris groaned, “now I know this thing that maybe I was never supposed to know, and I can’t _un_ -know it!”

Megan shrugged. “Unless you get hit on the head again.”

“No fair picking on the guy with amnesia!” Kris called out as Megan moved off down the bar.

Allison bumped her shoulder into Kris’ and they shared smiles.

~*~*~*~

Kris worked at the pub Saturday and Sunday afternoons (Saturday with Megan and Sunday with Alexis Grace). Blake was giving him more bartending shifts to make up for the money he was losing by not playing, and lunch shifts so he could gain his footing, even though the tips were generally less than nights. The next week he was going to go in Monday morning to get some experience handling deliveries and stocking the store room, and then Blake was giving him a few (normally slow) evening shifts to get his feet wet before throwing him into the deep end of a weekend night shift.

Kris had been going for a walk every day after work, and then playing his guitar each night, but Sunday evening stretched in front of him and he was already feeling twitchy, like he wouldn’t be able to sit there all night without getting bored.

Kris knew what he wanted to do – it had been tickling at the back of his mind even if he wasn’t quite ready to admit it out loud yet. He missed Adam, though he kept hearing Adam’s voice telling him that what they’d done had been a mistake. Intellectually he realized that he’d only known Adam for two days, but it felt like there was an Adam shaped hole in his life that he needed to fill.

It was pretty much a foregone conclusion; Kris didn’t know why he pretended that there’d even been a choice. He called to make sure Adam was singing that night, and made a reservation for a table in the back. Kris took care with his appearance – showering, shaving, and putting gel in his hair, which he normally wouldn’t have bothered with, and then dressing in a pair of nice slacks and a light pullover sweater.

Kris’ stomach twisted with nerves as he closed his apartment door behind him, as much for the fact that he had to drive as that he’d be seeing Adam again for the first time since they’d . . . well, for the first time in nearly a week.

Fate was on Kris’ side when he arrived because he timed his entrance with a group of laughing friends. He saw Adam sitting at the end of the bar where he’d sat with Kris last week. This week he was with Brad and another guy Kris didn’t recognize. When Kris was led to his table he took a seat in the corner and hoped the shadows cast by the dim lighting would keep him hidden.

As the club filled up Kris lost sight of Adam. He told himself that was good because there was less chance that Adam would see him. He sat alone at his table, sipped his beer, and tried to tell himself that he was not creepy stalker man. Eventually a young couple joined him. They were polite, but clearly had just recently gotten married so only had eyes for each other.

Thankfully two of the remaining seats were taken by two men who struck a chord in Kris’ memory. They didn’t act like they knew him, so Kris figured he must have seen a picture of them somewhere, or heck, he could’ve passed them on the way to work and their faces stuck in his mind for some reason. They were also polite, and not averse to including Kris in their conversation, though there wasn’t much he could contribute when the conversation turned to politics or the latest movies.

When they started talking about music, though, something clicked. “Are you guys here to listen to Adam Lambert?” Kris asked.

“We’re just here for dinner,” one of them told him. “Someone told us about this place awhile ago, and we finally got a chance to check it out.”

“Oh, well, this is actually my first time eating here, but I’ve heard Adam sing before, and he is _amazing_. I think you’ll really enjoy his performance.”

The meal was good, but for Kris this evening was all about Adam. He couldn’t take his eyes off him, and didn’t even bother to try and pretend he wasn’t smitten. When Adam finally sang his last note and thanked the audience Kris felt a heaviness settle over his heart. He imagined himself walking over and saying hi, telling Adam how great he sounded, the smile when Adam saw him, the hug.

Instead he watched Adam walk over to his friends, and the smile on his face was for them. Kris’ imagination turned it all around, and now he pictured the smile slipping off Adam’s face when he saw Kris. He couldn’t bear it if that happened. When the table next to them got up, Kris excused himself to his table mates and stood.

“Aren’t you going to say hi to your friend?” one of the men asked him.

“He’s not my friend,” Kris said sadly, “just someone I met once.”

Kris lost himself in the crowd exiting and made his escape. He was still worked up when he got home, so Kris decided to do laundry. The washer and dryer were in the basement so they wouldn’t bother anyone running so late, and at this hour he wouldn’t have to fight anyone for them.

He loaded up his laundry basket with soap and his pockets with quarters, then snagged his notebook so he’d have something to do while he waited. As he’d expected, the laundry room was empty and silent. Kris loaded up two washers and then settled down with his notebook. It wasn’t the first time he’d glanced through it, reading lyrics he’d written from a time he couldn’t remember, but it was the first time he had any intention of adding anything to it.

~*~*~*~

Kris went into work early Monday morning a little bleary eyed from staying up late the night before. He helped Blake with the deliveries and got a quick lesson in inventory. At one point Blake asked Kris what was wrong. Kris assured him that it was nothing, he’d just been up late writing.

Kris wasn’t certain that Blake believed him, but he just smiled and squeezed Kris’ shoulder with his large hand. “That’s good.”

When they finished up Kris stayed and helped Blake set up the bar for the lunch shift.

“You don’t have to do that,” Blake protested. “You should go home and take a nap.”

“Can’t,” Kris said. “I’m going to go pick up paint. I’m really sick of looking at those white walls.”

The night before, when Kris had returned to his apartment with the basket full of folded laundry and three mostly finished songs in his notebook, it had struck him again how he didn’t feel comfortable in his own apartment. It just didn’t feel like _home_. But for the first time Kris realized that he could do something about it – some color on the walls, maybe some curtains and pictures. First up, though, was definitely fresh paint.

Kris had never painted before (that he remembered), so he threw himself on the mercy of the clerk at the Home Depot and went home with brushes and rollers and edgers and tape and drop cloths and pans. It took several trips to get everything carried up to his apartment while he left his car double parked so he could unload it. Each time he came down he expected to see a ticket on the windshield.

Kris changed into clothes he hoped he wouldn’t mind getting paint on, then started in the kitchen. He figured that finishing the smaller room would give him a sense of accomplishment, and doing the tighter spaces where he had to take more care would be easier when his energy level was fresh.

Kris estimated it to be a three day project. He’d get the kitchen and bathroom done today, the living room the next day before work, and then the bedroom before going in on Wednesday. He’d wanted something soothing and calming, comforting, and blues and greens had come to mind, so he’d chosen colors that reminded him of the blues and greens of the ocean. The kitchen and living room were going to be done in shades of green, the bathroom and bedroom in blues.

Kris had just finished the first coat in the kitchen when the doorbell rang. He wasn’t expecting anyone, so he peered through the peep hole before opening the door and saw Allison standing there. He opened the door with a question on his lips, but she saluted and said, “Reporting for duty, sir!” then ruined it by giggling and saying, “You’ve got paint in your hair.”

Kris reached up self-consciously to touch his hair, but Allison caught his wrist before he could do any more damage.

“Seriously, what are you doing here?” Kris said, somehow not surprised that she knew where he lived.

“Blake said you were painting, so I’m here to help. Pretty color,” she said, pointing to the spots on his shirt and hand (and apparently in his hair).

“Thanks, I’m . . . you don’t have to do this.”

“Of course I don’t, I want to. Put me to work.”

Kris shrugged. “I need a second coat in the kitchen, and I thought I’d also do the bathroom today.”

In the bathroom, Kris edged while Allison painted the trim and then started on the walls. They finished the first coat quickly with the two of them, despite getting in each other’s way. When the bathroom was done they returned to the kitchen and studied the walls. Kris had bought paint that had primer in it, and they’d told him that he might only need one coat. He hadn’t believed them, but . . . .

“I like it,” Allison said.

“Me too,” Kris agreed. “Maybe it doesn’t need a second coat.”

If the bathroom didn’t need a second coat this project was going to be quicker than he’d thought. Which was good because his muscles were already protesting the repetitive motion he wasn’t used to.

Before they could get started on the living room, a shade darker green than the kitchen, the doorbell rang again. Since he never had company, his apartment was starting to feel like Grand Central Station.

“I’ll get it!” Allison said, ignoring Kris’, “Alli, be careful.”

She swung the door open to reveal Matt holding three boxes of pizza. “Someone order pizza?” he said.

“Oh my god, pizza!” Allison said. “I’m starving.”

Megan pushed Matt into the apartment so she could get past him. She held up two bottles of soda. “Sorry I’m late.” She gave Kris and Allison hugs, barely impeded by the bottles, then continued, “I had to wait for the sitter, and then my ride was late.”

“Hey, don’t blame me, I had to wait for Anoop.”

Anoop, who Kris had finally met officially when they shared a shift at the pub, opened his eyes wide and said, “Me? You’re the one who forgot the beer!” He raised the two 6-packs he carried as if their presence was evidence enough.

“Oooh, beer!” Allison said.

Four voices chorused, “No!”

There was a moment of confusion while the pizza and drinks were set on the coffee table, and Allison went to the kitchen to get the roll of paper towels Kris was using instead of napkins, and some cups for the soda. Kris hoped they wouldn’t need more than four. Apparently he’d never had friends over before, unless they’d brought their own cups.

“You remember Matt and Anoop, right?” Megan said while Allison was on her quest.

“Yeah, hi again,” Kris said. “What, uh, what are you guys doing here?”

“We heard there was free pizza and beer in it if we came over and helped paint,” Matt said.

“You guys brought the pizza and beer,” Kris pointed out.

Megan gave Kris another hug. “Well, I guess we just like you and want to help.”

“Oh. Okay. Well, thanks.”

“You’re welcome, sweetie.” Megan gave him a loud smack on the cheek, then let him go. “Come on, everyone, dig in before Alli eats it all.”

“I’m _hungry_!” Allison said around a mouthful of pizza.

Kris watched them all dive into the pizza, pop open bottles of beer and make themselves comfortable on his sofa and chair, then excused himself. Kris locked himself in the bathroom and sat on the covered toilet. He felt overwhelmed, almost like when he’d first met Allison and realized there were people out there who knew things about him that he didn’t remember.

He pulled out his cell phone and resisted the urge to call Adam. Instead he called his mom.

“Kris!” she said instead of hello. “How are you?”

“There are people in my living room,” he blurted. “I decided to paint, and they just showed up, and they brought _pizza_ ,” he said accusingly.

“Oh, sweetheart.”

“I mean, why would they do that?”

“Because they’re your friends,” she said reasonably.

“But I don’t remember them!”

“That doesn’t matter to them. They remember you, and they love you.”

“I should be able to remember people who are willing to do that for me, shouldn’t I?”

“Oh, baby, it doesn’t work that way. If it did, you’d remember the woman who spent 17 hours in labor giving birth to you.”

Kris let out a surprised laugh, as he was probably supposed to. “I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for. It’s not your fault, honey, and your friends realize that.”

“Yeah, okay. I, uh, I should probably get back out there before the pizza’s all gone.” Kris hesitated, then said, “Thanks, Mom,” before disconnecting.

~*~*~*~

Tuesday night wasn’t very busy and during a lull Kris worked up the courage to tell Blake that he’d been playing his guitar.

“That’s fantastic,” Blake said. “How’s it going?”

“Pretty good. I was, uh, wasn’t sure I’d remember how to play. I can’t be too loud though.”

“Kind of restrictive, practicing in an apartment.”

“Yeah.” Kris rubbed the back of his neck. “I was wondering if I could . . . .”

“Sure,” Blake said.

“You don’t even know . . . .”

“Your guitar’s in the office.”

“My . . . what?”

“Or you can use the piano.”

“I can play the piano?”

Blake held out a ring of keys, thumb and index finger pinching the one to the office. Kris hesitated for only a second before grabbing them and hurrying back to the office. It only took a moment to locate the guitar case leaning against the wall in the corner.

Kris reverently laid the case on the old sofa and knelt before it. He opened the latches and raised the lid, his breath catching when he saw the guitar nestled inside.

“It’s beautiful,” he said to Blake, who’d come to lean against the door frame.

“Give it a try.”

Kris lifted the guitar out of the case and moved the case to the floor so he could sit on the couch. He strummed the strings, adjusted the tuners a bit, and then played the first song that popped into his head. When he finished Kris ran his hands over the wood, sad to have to put it away, but knowing that if he didn’t he’d be in there the rest of his shift.

Back out behind the bar, Kris handed the ring of keys back to Blake. “Thank you,” he said, wondering if Blake knew how much those few minutes had meant to him.

Kris went in to work early the next afternoon and played on the small stage for a couple of hours before starting his shift with Alexis Grace. He played a couple songs several times, started and stopped others as he worked out the arrangement. None of the few people having a late lunch or starting the weekend early seemed to mind, and several even applauded when Kris finally put the guitar away so he could start work.

Kris practiced again Thursday and Friday afternoons before his shifts. Thursday was the evening shift again, but Friday Blake had him split his shift between afternoon and evening so he wasn’t overwhelmed by the Friday night crowd.

“Sorry about this,” Kris told Megan Friday night as they easily worked around each other.

“Sorry about what?”

“Screwing up everyone’s schedule while I’m learning this stuff all over again.”

Megan rolled her eyes at him. “You’re not screwing up anything. Sheesh, what did you do, hit your head?”

Kris just stared at her for a moment before he burst out laughing. If her self-satisfied grin was any indication, that had been her intent.

After his shift Kris stayed for a beer and to watch a guy named David Cook perform.

“He’s alright,” Allison told him loyally, “but not as good as you.”

After hearing him play a few songs Kris thought maybe she’d been a little biased in her opinion, or she hadn’t wanted to make him feel bad, because Cook was pretty good. He glanced away from the stage to check the score of the ball game on the TV above the bar and gave a little fist pump when he saw the replay of an RBI single that put the Braves ahead of the Dodgers by one run.

“Did I just see you cheering for the Braves?”

Kris glanced away from the TV to see Megan standing in front of him, hands on her hips.

“Um, yes?”

She shook her head sadly. “Will you never learn, Kristopher?”

She pointed up, and Kris tilted his head to follow her finger. A Braves ball cap was pinned to the wood above his head with a pocket knife.

“You wore it to work one day, almost started a riot,” she explained, eyes dancing with mirth. “Took four of us to get it away from you.”

She fell silent for a moment, obviously reliving Kris’ humiliation. “It was awesome. Did you know you’re ticklish?”

Kris reflexively pulled his arms in to his sides protectively.

“Of course Blake made us apologize and replace the hat. So we bought you a Dodgers cap.” Megan grinned, and Kris couldn’t help grinning with her, despite the fact that he’d been the recipient of their teasing. Or maybe because of it.

Just as he’d finished his beer and was debating the wisdom of another versus heading home, David Cook slid onto the empty stool next to his. He ordered a beer from Megan, then held his hand out to Kris.

“Hi, David Cook. You probably don’t remember me.”

“No, sorry.”

Cook shrugged off Kris’ concern. “Not your fault.” He pointed to the empty in front of Kris. “Can I get you another?”

Kris thought it would be rude to leave now, so he said, “Um, yeah, sure.”

Megan brought two beers and snagged Kris’ empty, giving him a look he couldn’t decipher.

“I was surprised when Blake called,” Cook was saying. “I mean, you’re the golden child.”

“I . . . what?” Kris wasn’t sure how to take that.

“You’ve got the prime spots locked up here.”

“Sorry?”

“Oh, no!” Cook shook his head. “That came out sounding way different than I meant it. I’ve got a great gig, but Archie . . . ,” Cook indicated the young kid bustling through the Friday night crowd with a tray of food and drinks, “. . . said that Blake might need someone for a night or two and, well, Blake’s been good to Archie so I was happy to fill in, just surprised, you know? Sorry to hear about your accident, by the way.”

“Thanks.”

It felt weird all over again, every time Kris met someone who knew things about himself that he didn’t. The weirdness was erased a few minutes later when Matt and Anoop showed up. Kris had learned the other night that Matt and Anoop were roommates, and that while Megan wasn’t Matt’s type, she was totally Anoop’s type.

When Cook returned to the stage Matt said, “So what were you two talking about?”

“Um, nothing?” Kris said, surprised and confused by the vitriol in Matt’s tone. “He just told me that he was happy to fill in a couple nights if Blake needed him.”

“He’s got a boyfriend,” Matt announced, out of nowhere.

“What?”

Kris glanced down the bar to see Megan biting her lip to keep from laughing, which was when Kris realized that Matt was jealous of Cook. He stuck his tongue out at Megan, and wondered when this had become his life.

~*~*~*~

Kris had the lunch shift on Saturday, and once in a while he had to stop his hands from shaking as he drew a beer or mixed a drink. Before he’d left the night before Blake had casually reminded them that tonight the pub would be holding an open mic night.

Kris had spent much of the night mulling over David Cook’s comments and wondering how much money he was costing Blake by not playing, and wondering just as hard whether he was ready to get back on the stage and play for more than a dozen people enjoying lunch or an early happy hour.

Kris was still wondering when he left the pub at five, yet eight o’clock found him back on the bar stool that he’d come to think of as his. Megan put a bottle of beer in front of him before he even asked.

“Hey, hon.”

“Hey,” Kris said. He took a sip of his beer and let his eyes wander over to the stage. Megan was looking at him when he drew his gaze back to the bar.

“You playing tonight?” she asked lightly.

“Thinking about it,” Kris admitted.

Megan just smiled, but she didn’t turn away before Kris saw the wet shine in her eyes.

When Blake brought out the sign-up list, Kris finished his beer in one gulp. “Put me on there.”

If Blake was surprised he hid it well. “Wanna go first?”

“Yeah, sure,” Kris said, eager to get it over with.

Kris tried to ignore Matt, Annop and Allison’s cheers. He raised his hand to Megan and she poured him a shot of tequila before he could ask for it.

“On the house,” she said as she set the drink before him. “Knock ‘em dead, Kris.”

Kris downed the shot, and then went to get his guitar from the office. Blake was on the stage when Kris came back. He caught Kris’ eyes and Kris nodded, then Blake spoke into the microphone.

“Up first, our very own Kris Allen!” Blake flung his arm out in Kris’ direction and said, “Come on up, Kris!”

Kris was surprised by the warm reception that announcement received. He was flushed from more than tequila when he took the stage and sat on the stool Blake must have brought out for him. The crowd fell silent when Kris adjusted the microphone.

Kris strummed his guitar, letting the feel of it in his hands soothe him. He looked out over the waiting audience and thought that you could hear a pin drop in the unusual silence. Instead of adding to his nerves, it served to steel him.

Kris leaned into the microphone. “Hello, everyone, I’m Kris Allen,” he said, speaking as he continued to softly strum his guitar. “I guess some of you already know who I am.”

He had to wait a few minutes for the applause to die down before he went on. “I’m sorry I don’t remember all of you, but I’m slowly learning everyone’s names. And more importantly, drink of choice,” he added dryly, eliciting laughter.

“This is a song I’ve been playing around with. It’s called ‘Maybe’.”

Everything faded away while Kris played, losing himself in the music. He kept his eyes closed as the song ended, and breathed deeply as the applause crashed over him. Kris opened his eyes and sought his friends out at the bar. Allison was jumping up and down, screaming; Megan had a huge smile on her face and not so surreptitiously wiped tears from the corners of her eyes; Matt and Anoop were punching the air and each other; and Blake stood with his arms folded over his chest, a proud grin on his face.

Blake uncrossed his arms and reached up to ring the bell hanging above the bar. The crowd went silent with anticipation and Kris watched, waiting to see what would happen next.

In his booming voice Blake called out, “Kris Allen, everyone!”

There was some scattered applause, but an expectant hush hovered over most of the pub, erupting into deafening cheers when Blake announced, “Next round is on the house!”

Kris ducked his head, smiling. He felt good about his performance, but it was nice to know that his friends thought he’d knocked it out of the park, as well. He put his guitar away, then went behind the bar to help Megan and Blake hand out free drinks. When everyone else in the pub had been served Blake handed Kris a beer.

A man of few words, he just said, “You did good, kid.”

“Thanks.”

As soon as he moved out from behind the bar Kris was mobbed by his friends. Allison threw herself at him, while Matt and Anoop held themselves to one-armed hugs and manly pats on the back.

One beer and two shots later Kris found himself on stage with Matt, Allison and Anoop. Blake took Megan’s spot behind the bar and she joined them. To Kris’ everlasting shame he didn’t make his escape before Matt started playing ‘We Are Family’.

~*~*~*~

Kris wasn’t scheduled to work on Sunday, so he and Allison made plans to meet for breakfast and then hit a flea market in the park. Kris wasn’t sure whether he liked flea markets, but he knew that he’d enjoy a day in the fresh air and Alli’s company. Plus, she sold Kris on it by suggesting that he might find something to hang on his walls.

Kris picked Allison up and she took him to Starbucks for coffee and a breakfast sandwich. At the same time Allison said, “You love Starbucks,” Kris said, “I _love_ Starbucks!”

They shared a grin and Kris held the door for her. They ordered at the counter and Kris paid, then they found a table in front of the window that opened onto the sidewalk. When their order was ready Kris went up and got it. The guy who handed him the drinks and sandwiches recognized Kris; he smiled and told him they’d missed seeing him the past few weeks. When Kris got back to the table Alli was grinning at him.

“What?”

“He’s cute,” Alli said, taking her sandwich from Kris.

“Who?”

Alli rolled her eyes towards the counter, and Kris glanced over to see the guy looking their way.

“He was flirting with you.”

“He was not,” Kris said.

“He totally was.”

A couple hours later they were halfway through the flea market and Alli dragged Kris over to a Slushie cart. She ordered cherry for herself and raspberry for Kris.

Kris hadn’t found anything for his walls yet, but he’d spent an enjoyable fifteen minutes looking through someone’s album collection while Alli modeled a dozen scarves before finally settling on one of them.

While they sat on a bench and enjoyed their Slushies, Alli tied her hair up in the scarf. Kris reached out and tugged at a lock of red hair.

“Why did you get rid of the purple?” he asked, and Alli’s head came up so fast that Kris thought she might give herself whiplash.

She studied his face for a few seconds, then smiled. “Got bored with it.”

Alli pulled the scarf out of her hair and wrapped it around her throat. She slid closer to Kris as she resumed sucking on her Slushie.

“You haven’t said anything about Adam since you came back to work,” Alli said after they’d spent several minutes people watching in comfortable silence.

“Nothing to say,” Kris said, managing somehow to not choke on the sip of Slushie he’d just taken.

“He seemed nice,” Alli said. “I kinda thought maybe you liked him.”

“I did like him,” Kris said softly.

“Like him, like him,” Alli clarified. When Kris didn’t answer she let her shoulders slump. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” Kris used his thumb to wipe condensation off the cup. “I guess he wasn’t interested.”

“Bullshit,” Alli said forcefully. “The way he looked at you had interested written all over it.”

“I thought so, too, but apparently we were both wrong.”

“I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”

“Yeah. Don’t worry. I’ll get over him.”

“Okay. But you know it’s not that easy,” she said, as if at 16 she was the voice of experience. “You can’t forget about him just like that.”

Kris managed a grin and a shrug. “It’s happened before.”

Alli punched him in the arm.

~*~*~*~

Kris didn’t find any pictures to hang on his walls, but he did discover a woman selling postcards. Kris went through them and found several black and white postcards of LA landmarks. More searching uncovered some lovely water and beach scapes that Kris thought would complement the colors he’d chosen for the apartment, even in black and white. He ended up spending $20 on a couple dozen cards.

On the way home, after dropping Alli off, Kris stopped at the dollar store and picked up some picture frames and hangers. Kris framed all the cards as he considered where he wanted to hang them, then spread them out on the floor in two separate bunches and moved them around like puzzle pieces until he was satisfied with their arrangement.

Two hours after he’d started this project Kris stood back and studied the results. It looked good, if he did say so himself, and the apartment was finally starting to look like _his_.

Kris showered and forced himself to dress in jeans and a t-shirt, and then went to the pub.

“You playing?” Blake said when he saw Kris, as if it was the most natural thing in the world for Kris to just show up.

Kris rubbed the back of his neck. “Am I that transparent?”

Blake shrugged. “I could see how much you’ve missed it. You come alive when you’re on the stage.”

Kris had found a couple set lists in the guitar case he kept at the bar, but he’d been practicing and playing around with other songs, so he needed to determine which of those songs he wanted to include on a new set list. A couple of the songs were his own; after seeing them on the list and not recognizing the titles or finding them via Google, Kris had asked Blake about them.

Kris had then spent several hours going through his notebook and eventually found a file folder of finished songs. He’d played them in his apartment, but playing on a stage, in front of an audience, was an entirely different animal.

Kris played to a half full house, but the reaction of the crowd, even after the night before, surprised him. There was applause and dancing, and many of them knew the words and sang along, even to Kris’ original songs. It was an amazing feeling, even if it was only a practice session. A couple of times he got so caught up he had to force himself to dial it back.

Kris finally put his guitar away and retreated to the bar. He ordered a beer and spent a few minutes shooting the breeze with Blake before the conversation turned to his schedule for the coming week. Still riding the high of his practice session, Kris eagerly agreed to perform on the following Wednesday and Saturday nights.

It wasn’t until he was in bed that Kris allowed himself to think about Adam. He wondered how his show had gone that night. He wondered if he’d ever see him again.

 

Part 3

Early Monday morning Kris did his laundry and then went in to help Blake with deliveries. He did some shopping on his way home, then took his guitar and notebook to the park and worked on the songs he’d started writing.

Kris worked the bar Tuesday night by himself for the first time, though Blake was available if he ran into any trouble, and then was back again Wednesday at two. He’d work the bar until eight, and then go on stage for his set. Blake had tried to convince Kris to just play, but he was afraid he’d go crazy with the waiting if he had nothing to do all day.

About halfway through his shift Kris glanced up to greet the newcomer who had just stepped up to the bar. The words froze on his lips when he saw who was standing there. His hand shook and the beer he was drawing spilled all over his fingers.

“Hey,” Adam said, shoving his hands into his pockets and biting his bottom lip in a very distracting manner.

“Hey,” Kris said back as he wiped his hand off on a towel and dragged his eyes away from Adam’s mouth. He finished drawing the beer and set it on Archie’s tray.

Kris wiped his palms on the butt of his jeans as he made his way down the bar back to where Adam was waiting. He straightened the stack of napkins to give his hands something to do. “What, uh, what are you doing here?”

“I wanted to see how you were doing,” Adam said.

Kris nodded. It wasn’t what he’d wanted to hear, but probably more than he should have expected. “I’m doing good,” he said, reaching for the towel to wipe a non-existent spill off the bar.

Adam’s hand covered Kris’, stilling it. “Kris.”

Kris stared at Adam’s hand, then slowly raised his eyes to meet Adam’s.

“I’m glad you’re doing alright. I was worried. And I missed you.”

Kris slid his hand out from under Adam’s as Adam’s words reminded him why he’d left. “It’s been over two weeks,” Kris pointed out, “you couldn’t have been that worried.”

“I . . . you just left, I wasn’t sure you wanted to hear from me.”

“I just left?” Kris repeated, suddenly angry at Adam’s interpretation of that morning. “You said it was a _mistake_ ,” he hissed.

Adam looked like Kris had slapped him. “That’s not . . . I didn’t . . . you were supposed to stay so we could talk when I got back.”

“Mistake,” Kris repeated, unable to bring himself to look at Adam.

“Because you didn’t know anyone but me,” Adam said. “Because you were depending on me to help you and I didn’t want to take advantage!” Adam moved his hand on the bar as if he wanted to reach for Kris again. “Kris.”

A set of keys slid down the bar and skidded to a halt in front of Kris. He snatched them up and strode down the bar past Megan and toward the office at the back without looking at anyone. Adam followed behind him a few seconds later. Kris unlocked the office and stepped inside, standing with his back to the door until he heard it shut behind him.

Kris looked down at the keys he held so he didn’t have to look at Adam. “I thought . . . .”

“I know, I’m sorry,” Adam said. “I tried to explain that morning, but I made a mess of it. That’s why I asked you to stay so we could talk later.”

“I didn’t actually hear much of anything you said after, you know, mistake.”

“I get that now,” Adam said. He took a step closer to Kris. “How are you, really?”

“I really am doing okay. I’m relearning how to tend bar, and I’ve been playing a little bit.”

“Playing, that’s great!” Adam said. “Really, Kris, that’s wonderful.”

“I missed you, too,” Kris said.

“Are you ever gonna look at me?”

Kris gave a self-deprecating huff. “I feel so foolish.”

“Hey, no.” Adam was suddenly right there, his hand on Kris’ shoulder. He only had to exert the slightest pressure to have Kris taking one step forward and smooshing his face into Adam’s chest.

Kris wasn’t sure how long they stood there, arms around each other, but he never wanted to move. He hadn’t realized how much tension he was carrying until Adam was there to ease it. Finally Kris had to pull away because something was poking into his chest. He patted at the front of Adam’s jacket.

“What . . . ?”

“Oh.” Adam gave him a shy smile as he reached inside his jacket and pulled out a DVD case. “My excuse for coming if you weren’t thrilled to see me.”

Kris knew what it was before he turned the case over and looked at it. He ran his fingers over the cover and smiled, wondering if Adam would recognize one of the songs from his set as being from the movie they’d watched together. He opened Adam’s jacket and slipped the case back into the inside pocket, then smoothed his hand over the front.

“You can hold on to that.”

“Rather hold on to you,” Adam said with a ridiculous waggle of his eyebrows that Kris thought was actually kind of sexy.

“You can do that later,” Kris said shyly, hoping that he wasn’t moving too fast, or god forbid, reading the signals wrong.

“Okay,” Adam agreed a little breathlessly, and when Kris could bring himself to raise his eyes and look at him, Adam was looking back at him as if he’d found the holy grail. “When do you get off?”

Kris felt his eyes go wide, and then he snorted.

Adam grinned. “Pervert. I meant from work.”

“Oh, yeah, um.” Kris rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m tending bar until eight, but then I’m playing a set, so . . . .”

“You’re playing your guitar here, tonight?”

Kris nodded.

“And singing?”

Kris nodded again. “You’ve probably already got plans . . . .”

“I don’t! And even if I did, I’d change them! Of course I’m staying, you couldn’t drag me out of here with a . . . whatever you drag people with.”

Kris smiled. “Wild horses?”

“Yeah, whatever,” Adam said, and then he blinked fast and his eyes looked kinda shiny. “I can’t believe I’m going to get to hear you sing.”

Kris shook his head. “It’s nothing like what you do.”

“Kristopher Allen, don’t you dare! I’m sure you’re awesome! Now come here.”

Adam held his arms out and Kris pressed himself against Adam and let himself be folded in them.

“Speaking of,” Adam said, his jaw moving against the top of Kris’ head where he rested it. “I heard you came to see me sing last week.”

Kris stiffened a little bit, then let himself relax under Adam’s hand as it moved over his back in soothing strokes. “You weren’t supposed to find out.”

“Don’t pout, baby.”

“I’m not pouting,” Kris said, totally pouting.

“I looked for you this past Sunday night.”

“Oh. I thought about it,” Kris admitted. He curled his fingers in the back of Adam’s jacket. “But I thought that would be pretty pathetic.”

“Knowing you’d been there made coming to see you today easier. I’ve been thinking about it ever since I got home that afternoon and you were gone.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.”

“I missed you so much,” Kris said, the words muffled in Adam’s t-shirt. Until he vocalized it Kris didn’t realize how true it was, how he’d just been drifting these past two weeks, trying to get on with a life he didn’t remember, but not really _enjoying_ it.

He’d only known Adam for two days, but they’d connected so well, and they’d just _fit_ together.

“I missed you, too. Especially the cuddling,” Adam said.

“I don’t cuddle,” Kris denied, even as he cuddled in deeper.

“It’s okay, I like it.”

Kris tipped his head back and looked up at Adam, smiling. His eyes met Adam’s, and then dropped to Adam’s mouth. Adam’s fingers flexed on Kris’ back as he darted his tongue out to lick his lips.

“Kris.”

“Mmm?”

“You should probably not look at me like that.”

“Adam.”

“Fuck it,” Adam breathed, and then captured Kris’ lips.

Kris moaned into Adam’s mouth and pushed up on his toes, pressing himself closer to Adam. He got his hands under Adam’s jacket, and then jerked back when the door was pushed open and Blake stepped into the office.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Blake said, not sounding in the least bit sorry. “Adam, right?” he said as he walked across the office to his desk.

“Yeah,” Adam said, winking down at Kris as he licked the taste of Kris off his lips.

“Good to see you again.”

“You, too,” Adam said, absently strumming his fingers on Kris’ back.

“I guess this means you’re gonna stop moping now?” Blake said, addressing Kris.

Kris’ jaw dropped open. “I . . . wha–? I have not been moping!”

Blake shooed them out of his office without answering. Adam took off his jacket and dropped it over the arm of the couch, then followed Kris back out to the bar. Kris gave Adam’s hand a squeeze before taking his place behind the bar. He watched Adam out of the corner of his eye as he moved down to Kris’ end of the bar and slid onto an empty stool.

Kris poured Adam a drink and set it in front of him, blushing at Adam’s smile when he said, “On the house.”

Kris felt Adam’s eyes on him as he went back to work helping Megan catch up.

“Whew! Glad you’re back,” Megan said when they reached a lull.

“Sorry I was gone so long,” Kris said, hoping Megan didn’t notice the heat coloring his cheeks.

Futilely, as it turned out, but instead of teasing him about it she jerked her chin in Adam’s direction. “Introduce me to your friend?”

“Oh, yeah, of course,” Kris said as he glanced over his shoulder at Adam.

Adam raised his glass to Kris, and Kris felt his face heating again. He led Megan down to Adam and said, “Megan, this is Adam; Adam, Megan.”

“Ahh, yes,” Megan said as she leaned her elbows on the bar and held out her hand. “I finally get to meet Kris’ knight in shining armor.”

Adam raised an eyebrow as he took her hand, though he smiled at her description.

“I hope that means you’re going to stop moping now,” she told Kris before winking at Adam, withdrawing her hand, and heading back up to her end of the bar.

“I have not been moping,” Kris said to no one in particular.

~*~*~*~

Matt and Anoop showed up about half an hour later. Anoop made a beeline for Megan’s end of the bar. Matt hesitated, glanced at Kris and sketched a wave in his direction before following him. Kris’ hands were full, so he tilted his chin in acknowledgment.

After he served the drinks Kris cleared away some empties, scooped up a couple of dollars in tip and dropped it in the tip jar, and wiped down the bar with a wet rag. He rinsed out the rag and dried his hands on a towel, then leaned against the bar in front of Adam, as he’d done several times that evening whenever he had a few free minutes.

They’d been talking softly, filling each other in on the past two weeks. Adam told Kris about the audition, and when Kris admitted to seeing him with Brad and another man that one Sunday night he’d snuck in to watch Adam sing, Adam laughed and told Kris a little bit about his friends Cassidy and Brad, and how they’d been dancing around each other for months.

Kris told Adam about looking through the photo album and calling his mom, painting his apartment, and going to the flea market with Allison.

A couple of times during the next hour Kris noticed Matt watching him and Adam, but he was too wrapped up in Adam to think anything of it until he saw Matt slide off his stool and make his way down to Kris’ end of the bar. Matt squeezed into a spot beside Adam and nodded a greeting to Kris, then said, “Introduce me to your friend?”

Kris had a bad feeling (better late than never, he figured), but he didn’t have any reason not to introduce them, so he did.

“How’d you two meet?” Matt asked, after shaking Adam’s hand.

Adam glanced at Kris before answering, as if asking for permission to speak of a moment that was so fraught for Kris. Kris nodded, and Adam briefly explained to Matt that they’d met when Kris got mugged.

“His face was the last thing I saw before I passed out,” Kris said, smiling at Adam.

“How do you know he’s not the guy that mugged you?”

“Matt!” Kris gasped, horrified by the allegation. Kris’ eyes darted to Adam, but instead of looking angry at the accusation, he was studying Matt thoughtfully and looked slightly amused.

“I’m just saying,” Matt explained, “you can’t be too careful. You don’t remember who mugged you, and he was the first person on the scene.”

“He’s right.”

“What?”

“They do say that the first responder is often a suspect,” Adam agreed with equanimity. “Maybe I wanted you at my mercy so I could take advantage of you,” Adam added, his voice gone low, sliding down Kris’ spine and curling around the base.

Adam smirked at Kris’ blush, which only annoyed Matt further. Kris wasn’t sure how he knew that, but he could clearly read the frustration on Matt’s face.

“This isn’t a joke,” Matt said.

“It wasn’t him,” Kris replied firmly.

“How can you be sure?”

“I just am, alright?”

Kris could see that it wasn’t alright (the look Matt gave Adam clearly said, ‘I don’t like you, I don’t trust you.’), but Matt didn’t say anything further and let the subject drop. Even so Kris was loathe to leave them alone to get back to his job, but he reluctantly moved away after sharing a look with Adam.

The next half hour went a little bit better. Matt didn’t bother pretending to like Adam, but the questions he asked managed to fall just short of an interrogation. Adam took it with good grace, answering Matt’s inquiries as if he wasn’t looking for proof that Adam wasn’t good enough for Kris.

Kris just rolled his eyes and kept Adam’s glass full. At one point Adam slid off his stool, and Kris and Matt thought he might have had enough and be throwing in the towel, but only one of them was happy about it. When he saw the expression on Kris’ face Adam mouthed, “Bathroom,” and Kris relaxed.

Kris worked the bar while Adam was gone, staying away from Matt because he couldn’t think of anything to say to him. It was times like this (well, all the time, but especially times like this) that Kris really wished he had his memory back. When he could no longer pretend to wipe up invisible spills, Kris leaned against the bar in front of Adam’s empty stool.

Unable to bite his tongue any longer, Kris said, “What do you think you’re doing?” He’d spent two unhappy weeks away from Adam, and he didn’t want Matt to scare him away forever.

“I’m trying to look out for you,” Matt said. “You don’t even know that guy!”

“I know him,” Kris said, and it didn’t even matter that he’d only known Adam for less than three weeks, and had spent less than three days with him. It felt like he’d known Adam all his life (and not just the short bit of it he remembered).

Kris went to push off the bar and return to work, but not before his eyes fell on Adam standing behind Matt, watching Kris with a smile on his face.

It was nearing the end of Kris’ shift, and Kris heard Alli before he saw her. She squealed, called out Adam’s name, and then barreled into him, almost knocking him off the stool.

“You’re here! Did you know Kris was playing tonight? Was he happy to see you? He was happy, wasn’t he? _I’m_ happy to see you.”

Kris didn’t know whether to laugh or drag Alli away from Adam. He chose to laugh when he saw Matt roll his eyes at Alli’s enthusiastic welcome and mutter, “Of course she is,” in response to her claim that she was happy to see Adam.

Kris saw Mrs. I following more sedately behind Alli. He decided to ignore Matt’s strange behavior and greeted her with a smile.

“Mama ‘heta! What are you doing here tonight?”

“I wouldn’t miss the opportunity to see my second favorite singer,” she said, smiling at Kris.

Alli giggled as she released Adam and threw an arm around her mother. “This is Kris’ friend Adam,” Alli said, making introductions. “This is my mom.”

Adam smiled and shook her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Allison’s mom.”

Adam slid off his stool and offered it to Mrs. I.

“Thank you, dear,” she said, “but I’m just going to get my drink and sit at the table. These stools kill my back, especially after I’ve been on my feet all day.”

Kris got Mrs. I her drink, listening as she greeted Matt and asked after him. Matt’s answer was a mumble Kris couldn’t make out. When he slid her drink across the bar to her, Mrs. I thanked him, then kissed Alli on the cheek, said, “I’ll see you boys later,” and made her way to the reserved table.

Kris felt safer leaving Adam to return to work now that Alli was there to act as a buffer between him and Matt. He and Megan moved around each other with an ease borne of more than a couple weeks working together. It was one of the few reminders he had that he and Megan had been working together for months instead of days. As was her smile when he offered to mix up a couple of frozen margaritas, knowing that she hated using the blender.

Kris set a fresh drink in front of Adam, watching curiously as Alli bent over Adam’s wrist. When she lifted her head and smiled at him, Kris saw that she’d been studying Adam’s tattoo.

“Have you seen this?” she said, an edge to her voice that Kris couldn’t place.

“Yeah,” Kris said, remembering the Eye of Horus tattoo that Adam had told him about when Kris asked its meaning.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

Kris used the excuse of taking a better look at the tattoo to lean closer to Adam. “Yeah,” he agreed, “it is beautiful.”

He glanced up at Adam and smiled, enjoying the flustered look on Adam’s face more than he should. He was used to being the one disconcerted by Adam’s proximity and his feelings for the other man, so it was a nice change to know that he had a similar effect on Adam.

“Those colors,” Alli said, stroking her finger over Adam’s wrist in a manner that made Kris want to reach out and rip off her hand, “they’re pretty. Very relaxing. Don’t you think?”

The soft blues and greens used to color in Adam’s tattoo finally registered, and Kris realized what Alli had already noticed. They were the same relaxing, _comforting_ colors that Kris had chosen to paint his apartment.

“What’s wrong?” Adam said, pulling his hand a way from Alli and reaching for Kris.

Kris shifted his gaze from Adam’s wrist to his face, noting the concerned expression. Kris shook his head and huffed a laugh at himself. Apparently his apartment hadn’t felt like home until he’d brought a piece of Adam into it.

“Nothing,” Kris said. “There’s absolutely nothing wrong.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, positive.” Kris smiled at Adam, and then kept smiling as he filled drink orders.

Kris handed off a bottle of beer and then glanced down to the end of the bar when he heard Alli and Adam laugh. He didn’t know how long he’d been watching them when Blake poked him in the side.

“Quit staring at your boyfriend and go get yourself ready.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Kris muttered, but he couldn’t deny that he might like it if Adam were. Kris wiped his palms on his jeans and stepped up to the end of the bar with the last drink he’d fix for Adam that night.

When Adam turned his attention away from Alli, Kris said, “I’ve gotta go.” He pointed over his shoulder to the back of the bar. “Get ready.”

Adam’s eyes went bright with excitement and he winked. “Kick ass, Kristopher.”

Kris laughed, washing away some of the nerves he felt playing in front of Adam for the first time. He made the familiar walk to the other end of the bar, but it seemed to take much longer with Adam’s eyes on him. And Kris knew without looking that they were, but he couldn’t resist a quick glance over his shoulder anyway.

Adam’s eyes jerked up from where they’d been appreciating Kris’ ass and met his eyes. Adam’s smile was equal parts amused at being caught ogling Kris and predatory. Buoyed up by Adam’s reaction, Kris felt like he was walking on air as he continued his way to the back of the bar.

Blake had left the office unlocked for him, so Kris went right in and got his guitar out of the case. He had the sudden urge to pee (which he attributed to nerves due to Adam’s presence), so he used the small washroom connected to the office. After he washed his hands Kris splashed his face and wiped wet hands through his hair. He stared at his reflection in the mirror – he was as ready as he was ever going to be.

When he walked out front Blake had already set up the stool and mic stand on the stage. He caught sight of Kris, waited for Kris to nod his readiness, then turned on the microphone and tested it. Kris tuned out Blake’s introduction, turning his thoughts inward as he waited for the moment he could take that step up onto the small stage and do the one thing he loved most in the world – make music.

There were loud cheers (but Kris was pretty sure that most of them came from the bar) and one piercing whoop (that was definitely Alli) when Kris took the stage. Kris couldn’t hold back the laugh at his friends’ antics, which was just what he needed to chase away the rest of his nerves.

Kris slid onto the stool and got comfortable, then settled the guitar on his lap. He adjusted the mic and said, “Hi, everyone, I’m Kris Allen.”

Kris started playing, let himself fall into the music. He started with ‘Maybe’, then went on to sing some songs off his previous set list, and a few new ones that he’d started messing around with recently. The set went quickly, and soon Kris had reached his last song. He softly strummed the opening notes on his guitar as he glanced over at Adam.

“This one’s for someone special,” Kris said, then closed his eyes and sang ‘Falling Slowly’.

He let the last note die away before opening his eyes and looking out at the people filling the bar. His gaze wanted to slide over to Adam, but he was afraid of what he’d see. Kris thanked the audience and then slid off the stool and exited the stage. He headed directly for the office so he could put away his guitar (and put off having to face Adam just in case Adam had hated it).

Kris stopped short when he saw Matt standing in the middle of the office, then continued on to the couch, where he’d left his guitar case.

“Hey, what’s up?” Kris said as he stowed his guitar, then locked the case and stood it carefully in the corner.

“What are you doing with this guy?” Matt exploded. “That song, it was for him, right?” He went on without waiting for Kris to answer. “You’ve only known him for a couple of days, and _now_ you decide you’re ready for a relationship? Because I’ve been waiting.” Matt closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “It was supposed to be me.”

Kris had no idea what to say to that, and he knew his face must have reflected his surprise at Matt’s unexpected blow up. “I’m sorry,” Kris began, and knew immediately that it was the wrong thing to say.

“You never even gave me a chance.”

Kris knew that nothing he could say would make Matt feel better, and might even hurt him, but faced with the depth of Matt’s feelings for him Kris couldn’t lie.

“I don’t know about before,” Kris said, “but I know that right now I don’t feel that way about you.”

“But you do _him_ ,” Matt sneered.

“Yes, I do,” Kris said, and felt empowered by the admission.

“He hasn’t even been around for the past two weeks. You never even mentioned his _name_. Have you even kissed him?”

Kris knew that the answer to that was written all over his face even without seeing the expression on Matt’s. During their confrontation Matt had moved closer, but it was the angry determination in Matt’s eyes rather than his invasion of Kris’ personal space that made Kris feel trapped.

Matt reached out and Kris raised his arm to block the anticipated blow. Instead Matt grabbed him and dragged him close before ruthlessly slamming their mouths together. Kris somehow had a moment of clarity to think that Matt’s kiss might have been nice if he wasn’t so focused on punishing him before his mind rebelled and he got his hands between them and gave Matt a shove that sent him reeling back two steps.

Matt looked like he was surprised and horrified at his own actions, but all Kris cared about was getting as far away from him as he could. Kris took a step back and his leg hit the coffee table. He lost his balance and began a slow topple backwards. Matt’s eyes went wide and he reached out for Kris, but his fingers closed on air.

Kris landed on the rickety coffee table and it buckled under the force of his fall. Both he and the table hit the floor, and Kris’ momentum kept him going back until his head bounced off the thin carpet and stars exploded behind his eyes.

Everything moved around Kris in slow motion, as if he was surrounded by gel, but as soon as his head hit, everything sped up. Matt knelt beside him and called out his name, then more softly when he saw Kris’ wince.

“Kris, Jesus, are you alright?”

Part of Kris wanted to pull away, but he was too busy trying to make sure his brains weren’t leaking out his ears and trying to keep from tossing his cookies all over Matt’s new shoes.

“What the fuck?” Adam demanded.

Kris thought that the sound of Adam’s voice had never been so welcome. And that he’d never heard him sound so angry.

“What the hell did you do to him?”

Adam didn’t wait for an answer before pushing Matt away and kneeling at Kris’ side. Kris reached out blindly with just his fingers, pressed them against Adam’s knee. Adam rested his hand over Kris’ and gently squeezed.

“Kris,” he said softly, as if he was afraid Kris wouldn’t answer him. “Kris. Please open your eyes, baby.”

Kris tried, but the light stabbed into his brain. He groaned, and Adam seemed to know exactly what he meant.

“Get the lights,” Adam commanded gruffly, still keeping his voice low in deference to Kris, but managing to convey a boatload of anger.

The lights went out and Adam gently stroked the side of Kris’ face. “I’m gonna go out on a limb here and guess that you fell and hit your head,” Adam said.

Kris chuckled, then immediately paid the price. “Ow,” he whined pitifully. “Head hurts,” he managed to say now that the stars had receded enough to allow him to form words.

“I need to check your head, baby, make sure you’re not bleeding.”

“‘Kay,” Kris said, even though he knew it was going to hurt.

Adam was as gentle as possible as he raised Kris’ head and probed the back. “You’ve already got a lump forming back there,” he ground out, “but at least there’s no blood.”

Kris was really glad that the anger he detected in Adam’s voice wasn’t directed at him.

“Come on, Kris, sit up,” Adam said, voice soothing once more.

Kris didn’t want to move, but he did as Adam said, head spinning and stomach rolling.

“What’s wrong?” Adam said worriedly when Kris moaned.

“Stomach,” Kris said, protectively covering his stomach with his arm and curling over it.

“You gonna hurl?”

Kris didn’t answer, just gritted his teeth and fought back the nausea. He tried to concentrate just on the hand rubbing soothing circles on his back. Finally Kris could straighten, and he leaned against the couch.

“Better?”

Unwilling to nod and risk stirring up his belly, or the stars still threatening his head, Kris moaned what he hoped Adam would take as an affirmative.

“How’s your head?”

“H’rts.”

“Need some aspirin?” Adam said, already reaching into his pocket.

“Yeah,” Kris said gratefully.

When Adam pulled out the same small bottle he’d carried for Kris after the mugging, Kris reached out and touched it. Adam gave a little huff of laughter as he shook two out into his hand.

“Yeah,” he said, sounding kind of embarrassed at being found out, “you never know when you’re going to run into someone who just got hit on the head. Twice,” he added.

Kris made a sound to let Adam know he got the joke, even if he didn’t fully appreciate it. He let Adam pick his hand up and turn it over so he could dump the pills into his palm, and then closed his eyes when Adam pressed a light kiss to his forehead.

“Let me get you some water.”

“Behind the door,” Kris said.

Adam looked around, and then nodded. He patted Kris’ hand before he stood and walked away. Kris let his eyes fall closed again, listening to Adam fill a paper cup from the water cooler. Adam said his name softly when he came back, and then placed the cup in his hand. Kris took the pills without opening his eyes, then let Adam take the cup away from him.

Adam gently pushed his fingers through Kris’ hair and Kris pushed into the touch. “You’ve got to stop doing this,” Adam said, and Kris huffed out a breath.

“I’ll try.”

“There is no try, only do,” Adam intoned, and a laugh burst out of Kris.

“Ow.”

“Don’t laugh,” Adam said, sounding contrite that he’d caused Kris to hurt himself.

“Don’t _make_ me laugh,” Kris said, pouting.

“Don’t pout, baby,” Adam said, “it makes me want to do things to you that would make your head hurt even worse.”

“Promises, promises,” Kris said, smiling even as he let his eyes drop shut again.

“Don’t fall asleep.”

“What happened?” Blake said, startling Kris (and Adam, if the soft curse was any indication).

Kris turned his head and slitted his eyes to see Blake leaning against the doorframe. Thankfully he hadn’t turned on the light.

“I broke your coffee table,” Kris said, sounding pitiful even to his own ears.

“I didn’t like that table anyway.”

“Kris fell and hit his head. Again,” Adam said, once again accepting the task of answering on Kris’ behalf.

“I’m fine,” Kris said.

“You have an egg on the back of your head, and a headache.”

“I’ll _be_ fine,” Kris amended.

“And you were nauseous,” Adam said as if he’d just remembered that. “Is that a sign of concussion?” he went on, clearly not directing the question to Kris. “It is, isn’t it?”

Kris squeezed Adam’s hand because he didn’t like hearing the worry in his voice.

Blake gave a noncommittal grunt. “Keep him awake a few hours, then wake him up every couple hours to make sure he’s alright. Assuming you’re staying with him.”

“I’m not leaving him alone,” Adam said. “Apparently you need a keeper,” he added more softly to Kris.

“Hey,” Kris protested weakly.

“Now,” Blake said in a tone that said he meant business. “Tell me what happened.”

“I tripped and fell,” Kris said.

“Over your own two feet? You’re not usually _that_ clumsy.”

“I don’t like you guys,” Kris said.

“Spill.”

“I backed into the table and lost my balance,” Kris said. “Matt tried to catch me.”

“Matt was here?” Blake said, and Kris felt his cheeks heat.

Kris looked down at his and Adam’s hands so he didn’t have to look into anyone’s face.

“Yeah,” Adam answered, “he was here when I came back looking for Kris. You were taking too long and I . . . well, that can wait.”

“What did Matt do?” Blake said, cutting to the chase.

“It was nothing,” Kris insisted.

“It resulted in you getting hurt on my property, which makes me liable as well as responsible. But if you’d rather, I can go ask Matt.”

“No!” Kris sighed. “Why are you both ganging up on me?”

“Because we care about you, now stop with the puppy eyes and tell me.”

“Fine. He tried to kiss me.”

“Tried?”

“Did.”

“I’m going to kill him,” Adam ground out, but he didn’t let go of Kris, and his touch remained gentle.

“He kissed me, I pushed him, I backed up and ran into the coffee table, I lost my balance, Matt tried to grab me but he missed, I fell and hit my head, and you know the rest,” Kris said, giving Adam’s hand a shake. “Happy now?”

“Ecstatic,” Adam said, not bothering to hide his sarcasm. “Come on, I’m taking you home.”

~*~*~*~

Since Adam didn’t have a car Blake drove them the short distance to Kris’ apartment so he didn’t have to walk it. They slipped out the back so Kris didn’t have to deal with the loud noise at the front of the bar, so Kris didn’t know what Blake had said to the others about why he was taking Kris home.

It wasn’t until they walked into Kris’ living room that he remembered the new color on the wall, and the image of Alli’s knowing look when she spotted Adam’s tattoo filled Kris’ head. His cheeks went hot and Kris knew Adam had noticed when he said, “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Kris carefully shook his head, thankful that it no longer felt as if it was going to fall off his neck when he did so. Adam deposited Kris on the couch and tossed their jackets on the chair.

“Can I get you anything? Something to drink?”

Kris started to say no, he was fine, but Adam looked a little twitchy, like he really needed something to do to keep from jumping out of his skin.

“Uh, water would be good.”

“Faucet or bottled?” Adam asked, already moving towards the kitchen.

“Faucet,” Kris said. “With ice, please.”

“You moved things around,” Adam said when he came back out with a glass of ice water and handed it to Kris.

“Yeah, I kept getting confused by what was where.” At Adam’s look Kris went on. “I don’t mean because I couldn’t remember where stuff was, but I kept going, why the heck did I put the glasses here, and the cereal here, you know? So I figured now was a good time to redo the cupboards. And please stop looking at me like I’m a puppy who just learned to go outside.”

Adam burst out laughing. “I don’t think you’re a puppy,” he said when he finally stopped laughing, “but you are pretty cute.”

“Thanks,” Kris said dryly.

“I like the color,” Adam said, indicating the walls. “And the pictures. Makes it look homey.”

“Yeah,” Kris agreed. “It didn’t feel like mine before. Every time I came home it was like stepping into a stranger’s apartment. And again, I don’t mean because I couldn’t remember living here, but because I couldn’t figure out how I’d lived here for a couple of months without putting any kind of mark on it, you know?”

“I do know,” Adam said, and Kris flashed on Adam’s apartment, which screamed Adam from the theatrical posters on the walls to the CDs strewn across the coffee table, to the clothes tossed over the backs of chairs, to the ice cream in the freezer.

“Where’d you get the pictures?”

“Those are the postcards I told you about,” Kris said. “From the flea market.”

“Oh, yeah! Can I look?”

“Yeah, of course.”

Kris watched Adam walk across the room and study each postcard in the first grouping before moving over to the second.

“This is really nice, Kris, and a really cool idea. I like the beach scenes.”

“Me, too.”

“Have you been?”

Before he’d even finished speaking, Adam turned to look at Kris, eyes wide with contrition. “Sorry, I didn’t . . . .”

Kris held up a hand. “That’s okay. Really. Please don’t walk on eggshells around me. I hate that.” Kris rubbed his thumb on the denim covering his knee.

Adam dropped onto the couch beside him, still being careful of his head. “Alright, I’ll stop trying to be so careful of what I say, going on the presumption that you’ll understand what I really meant to say.”

Kris smiled down at his hand, then glanced up at Adam through his lashes. “Deal.”

“Christ, I want to kiss you right now.”

Before Kris could tell Adam what a great idea he thought that was, Adam shook his head. “Bad timing, sorry.”

At Kris’ frown, Adam added, “Your head must be killing you.”

Kris shrugged. “It’s okay.”

In truth there was a dull throb at the back of his head, but Kris found that he couldn’t pay it much attention when Adam was sitting right beside him because all Kris could think about was Adam. And now the added possibility of that kiss.

“Don’t tempt me, Kristopher,” Adam said, trying to sound cross.

Kris grinned down at his leg, then glanced up at Adam through his lashes again.

“Seriously, Kris, I don’t want to hurt you,” Adam said, sounding a little bit rattled.

Kris tried not to pout. “Can we at least cuddle?”

“Don’t pout, baby,” Adam said, stroking his thumb over Kris’ lips. “And of course we can cuddle. Come here.”

Adam raised his arm and Kris shifted until he was snugged up against Adam’s side. It felt good, having Adam so warm and strong and _real_ against him.

“Don’t fall asleep,” Adam reminded him.

“I won’t,” Kris promised.

“Talk to me,” Adam said, “so you stay awake.”

“What do you want to talk about?” Kris said, curling his fingers into Adam’s t-shirt.

“Anything.”

“Okay, well.” Kris felt at a disadvantage since he only had two and a half weeks of memories to draw from. “I’ve talked to my mom a couple of times.”

Adam hmm’d.

“She seems really nice. I think I’d like to go home. For a visit,” he added when Adam went stiff beneath his cheek. “All I’ve got are pictures. I’ve heard her laugh, but I don’t know what she looks like when she does it. Or what it feels like when she hugs me.

“My family are apparently criers. I’m the only one who doesn’t cry at the drop of a hat. My brother Daniel’s a cheerleader.”

Adam snorted, and Kris smiled at having successfully drawn a reaction out of him.

“He’s pretty good, I guess.”

Adam’s hand stroked up and down his back, and it felt really good.

“Megan told me that Matt had a crush on me,” Kris admitted. “I didn’t do or say anything because I didn’t even know if I knew that before. Plus it was really awkward. I mean, what was I going to say, ‘Hey, Matt, Megan says you have a crush on me, and sorry I don’t remember if, god forbid, we did anything about it before, but I’m not interested now, and I’ve sort of fallen for someone else’?”

Adam didn’t say anything for a few seconds and Kris imagined him fighting back the urge to find Matt and pound on him. Kris was sorry he’d brought it up. He opened his mouth to say something, but Adam spoke first.

“You’ve fallen for someone else?”

Kris smiled at the mix of pleasure and uncertainty in Adam’s voice.

“Yeah,” Kris sighed. “It was impossible not to, really.”

Adam pressed his fingers beneath Kris’ chin and tipped his head back. “I’m going to kiss you now.”

Kris made a little sound of approval of that plan, and then Adam’s lips were on his. Kris hadn’t even known, not really, how much he’d missed this. When Adam started to pull away Kris curled his hand around the back of his neck and held him there.

They finally had to separate so they could breathe, and as much as Kris hated to admit it, his head was starting to throb again. Kris pressed his face to Adam’s neck.

“I lied before,” Kris said.

“About what?”

“I love to cuddle.”

~*~*~*~

When Kris woke the first thing he saw was a fall of dark hair. He smiled when he remembered that Adam had come to the bar to see him, and that he’d spent the night with him, first keeping him awake talking, and then waking him up every couple of hours during the night until he was satisfied that Kris was fine.

Kris wanted to reach out and touch Adam, spend some more time curled up against his comfortable warmth, but his bladder had other ideas. Kris carefully unwrapped himself and eased out from Adam’s hold. He used the bathroom, then padded out to the kitchen. As much as he wanted to crawl back into bed with Adam (and didn’t it seem weird to be able to say that), he had the urge to make Adam breakfast, bringing them full circle.

Kris opened the refrigerator door and stared at its meager contents. He was still standing there when Adam slid his hand down Kris’ bare back to his flannel clad butt as he looked over Kris’ shoulder.

“What are we looking at?”

Kris sighed. “I wanted to make you breakfast.”

“Out of what?”

Kris snorted. Adam kissed the side of his head.

“How’s your head?”

“Better.”

“No headache?”

“No,” Kris reached up to touch the back of his head. “Still tender, but no headache.”

“Good, because I have an idea.”

“What?”

Adam set his hands on Kris’ shoulders and ran them down his arms. “You can take me out for breakfast.” Adam lowered his head and dropped a kiss to Kris’ shoulder, and then planted a trail of kisses to Kris’ neck. “After.”

Kris moaned and dropped his head back, exposing his throat in silent invitation for Adam to continue his exploration. Adam didn’t disappoint, and Kris’ hand fell off the refrigerator door as he melted back against Adam, and it swung shut.

“A-after what?” Kris finally managed to ask.

Adam growled against his neck and then gently bit down. Kris shivered and whined. Adam slid his arms around Kris, one hand splayed flat over his belly.

“If you can’t figure it out I must be doing something wrong.” Adam slid his hand down and palmed Kris’ swollen cock. “Am I doing something wrong, Kris?” he purred.

Kris pushed into Adam’s hand. “No. Adam.”

Adam squeezed and stroked Kris through the material of his sleep pants.

Kris whimpered, “Please.”

Adam licked a path up Kris’ neck as his hand snaked inside Kris’ pants and curled around him. “Please what?”

Kris gurgled something as Adam rubbed his thumb over the spot that made his knees go weak.

“Fuck, Adam, please.”

“Good enough,” Adam said as he spun Kris around and pressed him back against the refrigerator.

Adam went to his knees and took Kris’ pants down with him. He lapped at Kris’ cock, tongue swirling around the head as his fingers slipped between Kris’ thighs. One hand curled around the base of Kris’ cock as Adam took the head into his mouth, the fingers of the other hand closed round Kris’ balls.

Kris pushed his fingers into Adam’s hair, that contact and the refrigerator at his back the only things keeping him on his feet. He pressed his head against the freezer door and looked up at the ceiling, unable to watch Adam going down on him and not come right that instant.

Adam pulled off and gave Kris’s cock a teasing lick. “Watch,” he commanded.

Kris gave a little groan of protest before dragging his gaze down to Adam’s face. They locked eyes and Adam didn’t look away as he once more covered Kris with his mouth, or as he slid his lips down the length of him until they met his fingers. A tight wet slide back up to the top, and then his tongue pressing against him on the glide down.

Kris had tried so hard (and mostly failed) to not think about what it had been like that one night with Adam. Even his most lurid fantasy paled in comparison to the reality of Adam on his knees in Kris’ kitchen. The sight of his gorgeous eyes looking up at him, of his beautiful lips stretched taut around him.

Adam reached back farther, the stroke of his finger jolting Kris out of his thoughts. He made a little sound of pleasure that brought a gleam of delight to Adam’s eyes. Adam pressed the tip of his finger more firmly against him, and then inside him as he went down on Kris for the final time.

Kris pulled hard on Adam’s hair as the pressure built in his balls. Adam’s only response was to hum happily around him. Fireworks went off behind Kris’ eyes as the vibration went directly to his groin. Kris’ climax crashed over him in waves of white hot pleasure and he thrust desperately into Adam’s mouth, emptying himself on Adam’s tongue. He would have slid down the refrigerator to puddle on the floor if Adam’s hands hadn’t gone to his hips to hold him in place while Adam took his time licking him clean.

Kris yanked weakly at Adam’s hair when he became too sensitive for even Adam’s soft kitten licks. Adam pulled off and helped Kris sink to the floor. He blanketed Kris with his body and kissed him hungrily, as if he’d not gotten enough taste of him. Kris held on to the arm next to his head with one hand and reached up to slide the fingers of the other more gently through Adam’s hair.

Adam moaned into Kris’ mouth as he rubbed against Kris’ hip. Adam reached between them to push his boxer briefs down. Kris slid his hand down Adam’s back to the waistband to offer assistance. He kept his hand on Adam’s ass as Adam drove his cock along Kris’ belly. Kris slid his hand around Adam’s hip and found the head of his cock. He circled his fingers so Adam popped through on the next push.

Adam stuttered and groaned as he bit down on Kris’ lip.

“Fuck, Kris,” Adam moaned against Kris’ lips as he broke the kiss to concentrate on fucking himself through the ring of Kris’ fingers. Adam trailed kisses along Kris’ cheek and closed his teeth on Kris’ jaw.

“Come on,” Kris said, lips moving against Adam’s ear, “want you to come on me.”

Adam grunted and froze over him, and then pulsed in his fingers and came all over Kris’ belly. Kris pressed his hand to the back of Adam’s head and just held him as he buried his face in Kris’ neck and shuddered through his release.

When he finished, Adam slid off to the side of Kris, face turned as he blindly searched for Kris’ lips. Kris held Adam’s head still and met him, parting his lips as Adam licked into his mouth. Adam finally drew back so they could breathe. He pressed his forehead against Kris’ and looked down the length of him.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he said breathlessly, not sounding upset about it at all, as he dipped his fingers in the puddle on Kris’ belly and painted Kris’ chest with his come.

Kris’ breath caught as Adam marked him. He almost hated to suggest a shower to wash it off, but it was already beginning to itch where it had started drying. Plus, the hard floor wasn’t really that comfortable.

Adam grunted his agreement, but continued to fingerpaint Kris’ torso. Kris frowned when his brain started to work properly again and he was able to make out a couple of letters.

“Did you just write ‘property of Adam Lambert’ on me?”

“No,” Adam scoffed, but he didn’t even bother to put much effort into making it sound believable.

“You totally did!”

“You said something about a shower?” Adam said, pushing to his feet and holding down a hand for Kris.

Kris let Adam pull him to his feet, then leaned into him and wrapped his arms around his neck. He raised his face, and Adam happily pressed a kiss to his lips. When Adam went to pull away Kris slid his hands through Adam’s hair and cupped the back of his head. He pulled Adam back down for another kiss, slipping his tongue between Adam’s lips and licking all around his mouth to get another taste of himself.

“Yeah, baby,” Adam said when Kris finally eased back, “that’s you all over my tongue.”

Kris blushed at being caught; he hadn’t thought he’d been so transparent. Adam just chuckled and hoisted Kris up. Kris wrapped his legs around Adam’s waist and clung to his shoulders as he started walking down the hallway.

“I can walk, you know,” Kris protested, but not too strenuously.

Adam deposited Kris on his feet in the bathroom. They showered together and Adam ran soapy hands over Kris, paying special attention to his nipples and ass cheeks, but completely ignoring his reawakening cock.

“The last thing I need is for you to slip and fall and hit your head again,” Adam said when Kris complained.

Instead they quickly rinsed off and gave themselves a cursory swipe with a towel before Adam dragged Kris back to the bed they’d recently vacated. They wrapped around each other, sharing lazy kisses and sliding together languidly, exploring each other unhurriedly until Adam’s fingers tightened on Kris’ ass and he spilled between them.

Kris slid through the wetness coating their bellies, moaning as he sped up his thrusts. Adam dragged Kris’ head back and kissed him hard, and Kris groaned into Adam’s mouth as he added to the mess between them.

Adam pressed his lips to Kris’ ear. “Death. Of. Me.”

Kris gave a sleepy chuckle, and then drew a shaky ‘K’ on Adam’s chest with their mingled come. They lay there together for a few minutes, catching their breath and just enjoying each other, and then Adam peeled them apart and went to get a wash cloth to clean them up.

Once they were both wiped off to Adam’s satisfaction he slid back onto the bed with Kris, and Kris immediately snuggled up against him. He stroked his hand down Adam’s arm and twined their fingers together.

After a few moments Kris realized that he’d been stroking his thumb over the inside of Adam’s wrist. He let his gaze fall on the blues and greens that had inadvertently influenced his choice of paint colors for his apartment.

As if he’d read Kris’ mind, Adam said, “I really like this blue.”

Kris felt his cheeks go warm. “Uh, thanks.”

“What?”

Kris held up their joined hands, pointed out the tattoo he’d been stroking. There was a moment of silence while Adam put two and two together, and then he said, “Seriously?”

Kris shrugged and tried to sound nonchalant when he said, “Apparently my apartment didn’t feel like home until there was something of you in it.”

~*~*~*~

It was almost eleven when Adam showed up at the pub that night. He’d sung at both the early and late sitting at the supper club, so was just now getting off work. Kris had been looking for him (and valiantly ignoring Megan’s teasing), so he was looking at the door when Adam came through. He caught Adam’s eyes before the door had even closed behind him. Kris figured he was probably grinning like an idiot, but he didn’t care because Adam was grinning right back.

Until he caught sight of Matt sitting at Kris’ end of the bar.

“Uh-oh,” Kris said, the grin sliding off his face.

“What?” Megan looked around, spotted Adam as he changed direction and made a beeline straight for Matt. “Uh-oh.”

Matt had already apologized to Kris for his behavior the night before, but Adam didn’t know that. As if he sensed something, Matt turned and saw Adam bearing down on him. Matt slid off the barstool and moved to meet Adam.

“Crap,” Kris muttered. He pushed the bottle of Jameson’s into Megan’s hand, then climbed up onto the cooler and swung his legs over the bar as Adam confronted Matt.

Kris caught up to them just as Matt raised his hands and said, “. . . one free punch.”

“No,” Kris said, “Adam’s not going to . . . .”

Adam swung and punched Matt hard in the face before Kris finished, then winced and shook his hand out.

“Ow!” Matt cried, clutching at his jaw.

“Oh my god, Adam, what the hell, your hand!” Kris took Adam’s hand and cradled it gently in his own, examined it.

“You punched me!” Matt mumbled.

“You told him to,” Kris reminded him angrily.

“I didn’t think he’d really do it.”

“I was going to do it anyway,” Adam snarled.

Kris rolled his eyes at the amount of testosterone coming off Adam, then led Adam over to the bar and indicated that he should sit on an empty barstool. “Megan, ice. Please.”

Megan wrapped ice in a towel and slid it across the bar. Kris muttered about Adam being a complete idiot even as he tenderly cared for his already swelling hand.

“Don’t worry about the man with the _broken jaw_ ,” Matt said as he returned to his stool, “I’ll be fine.”

Megan made an ice pack for Matt and slapped it against the side of his face.

“Thank y–, ow!”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Anything I need to know about?” Blake asked, appearing like a ghost.

“Matt’s an idiot?” Megan offered.

“Knew that; anything else?”

“Thanks.”

“No,” Kris said as he used his eyes to tell Adam how much he did not approve, even as he pressed himself close to his side and let Adam wrap him up with his good arm.

Blake eyed Adam’s hand and Matt’s jaw. “Good thing you’ve already sang tonight.”

“Thanks,” Matt said dryly.

“What’s going on?” Anoop said as he set his tray on the bar.

“Matt’s an idiot,” Megan said. “What do you need?”

“I already knew that,” Anoop said, frowning in confusion.

Kris bit his lip to hold back an inappropriate giggle and Adam pressed his lips to the side of Kris’ head in apology.

“I have to get back to work,” Kris finally said, unwilling to tear himself away from Adam’s side. “Keep the ice on your hand.”

Kris pressed a quick kiss to Adam’s lips, blushing when Megan whistled, then turned and hurried around the bar. For the next half hour Adam and Matt each pretended that the other didn’t exit. Kris was impressed, since they sat nearly elbow to elbow at the corner of the bar.

Kris got caught up on drink orders, then set a beer in front of Adam, frowning at him when he reached for his wallet. Adam held up his uninjured hand in surrender, then washed down two aspirin with the beer. When the ice had melted through the first towel, Kris filled a dry towel with ice and replaced it. Kris performed the same courtesy for Matt, but left it to him to place the ice pack against his sore jaw.

The bar remained pretty full for so late on a work night so Kris was kept busy. When he got a lull he spent it near Adam. He asked about work and listened to stories about past performances at the supper club, like the time Adam had walked through the crowd soliciting audience participation and a blue haired elderly lady who’d had one too many vodka tonics grabbed the microphone from him and wailed out a song different from the one he’d been singing, remaining completely oblivious to the fact even after Adam had rescued the mic and her husband had helped her return to her seat.

The kitchen closed and Anoop joined them at the bar, sitting beside Matt, but keeping his eyes on Megan. Eventually Matt slid off the barstool.

“I’m gonna leave,” he said, sliding the sopping towel across the bar to Kris. “Thanks.”

Kris watched as Matt turned away, Anoop reluctantly following him since Matt was his ride. Kris took a step closer to the bar and reached out. “Matt.”

When Matt stopped and glanced back, Kris said, “I’m sorry.”

Kris reached out a placating hand to Adam, whose reaction he’d seen from the corner of his eye, though he kept his gaze focused on Matt.

“If I did, or said anything, you know, before, to make you think . . . .”

Matt grimaced and looked down, shaking his head, before meeting Kris’ eyes again. “You didn’t. That was sorta the problem.”

Kris nodded and let Matt walk away. He took a deep breath and then turned to face the music with Adam. Adam looked angry, but somehow Kris knew it wasn’t aimed at him. He slid his hand across the bar and Adam covered it with his good hand.

“I hate that he’s made you doubt yourself.”

“No, that’s not . . . I don’t doubt anything I’ve done. Well, that I remember I’ve done, but there’s a lot I don’t remember, and I just wanted to . . . .”

“You’re too nice.”

“I don’t think so. I mean before, if I knew and didn’t say anything?”

“You wouldn’t have done that.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because I know you.”

It wasn’t lost on Kris that he’d once said the very same thing to Matt about Adam. He turned his hand over so he could squeeze Adam’s. “Thanks.”

“Nothing to thank me for.”

Adam stayed at the bar through last call and Megan and Kris closing up. Blake came out and poured drinks and the four of them talked for a few minutes before Megan said she needed to get home to check on Ryder.

Before they left Blake said to Adam, “Matt’s not a bad guy, when he’s not being an ass.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Blake just nodded.

“How’s your hand?” Kris asked after they’d walked Megan to her car and were alone.

“Better,” Adam said, carefully making a loose fist. “Doesn’t feel like I broke anything anymore.”

“Good,” Kris said, sliding his hand into Adam’s good one.

They walked most of the way to Kris’ apartment in comfortable silence, broken only when Kris said, “Do you mind going to my place again? I mean, instead of yours?”

“Your place is closer,” Adam said, as if he didn’t know what the big deal was.

“I know, I just don’t want you to think that _I_ think that we have to go to my apartment all the time.”

“I don’t think that, I know there will be times when we go to my place.”

“Okay.”

“Besides, I like your apartment.”

Kris bumped into Adam with his shoulder. “I like your place, too. It feels like you.”

~*~*~*~

Adam had rehearsal the next morning so had to leave early, but not before he gave Kris a very nice wake up call. Once Kris was alone the entire day seemed to spread out in front of him, and he didn’t know what he was going to do with it. He’d only spent one day with Adam, and already it just felt right.

Kris went for a walk and stopped at the grocer’s on the way home. He cleaned his apartment, even going so far as to dig out the dusting spray he’d found in the cupboard beneath the kitchen sink. He showered and got dressed for work, then made himself a sandwich.

After cleaning up his lunch, Kris sat down with his guitar and played through a few songs in his set, then let his fingers pick out a new melody. It didn’t have any words yet, but Kris found himself humming it on the walk to the pub.

Alli pounced on him as soon as Kris walked through the door. “Did Adam really punch Matt?”

Kris groaned. He knew there was no way Alli’d let it go, and he wondered how much she knew about the night before that.

“Was it because Matt kissed you?”

Well, that answered that question. Kris resisted the urge to bang his head against the bar; he’d already suffered enough head trauma to last him a lifetime.

“Don’t you have school, or something?”

“Monday through Thursday, mornings.”

“Homework then?”

“You wish. Spill.”

“I’ve got to stock the bar,” Kris said, then retreated behind the drone work of checking the beer coolers and the liquor stock for the evening shift, and then hiding in the store room under the guise of loading bottles into the crate. As soon as Kris had restocked the coolers, Megan whipped off her apron, gave him a kiss on the cheek, and then hurried back to the office for her purse.

“Alone at last,” Alli said, grinning.

“I’m not talking to you about this,” Kris insisted.

Alli shrugged. “I’ll ask Adam then. He’s coming tonight, right?” She tore a napkin into tiny pieces. “I can’t believe I missed all the excitement last night.”

Kris wished he’d missed the excitement. Well, the part where Adam punched Matt and hurt himself, not what happened later, after they got home.

“Where were you, anyway?” he asked Alli.

“Grounded ‘til I cleaned my room,” she said, pouting.

Kris couldn’t bite back the laugh, which earned him a glare.

“How’s your mom?” he asked, saying the first thing he could think of to change the subject.

“Good. She said something about a shower and watching her soaps.”

“She’s coming down later, right?”

“Of course.”

“Did you eat before you came down, or did you skip dinner so you could ambush me?”

“I ate. Dad.”

Kris grinned as he moved down the bar refilling drinks, and tried not to think about Adam having dinner with Brad before stopping by the pub to pick Kris up. They were going to the club they’d gone to the last time they’d gone out, the night they’d . . . well, before they hadn’t seen each other for two weeks. Kris was nervous about meeting Adam’s friends, especially seeing Brad again, who he hadn’t seen since that first morning he’d woken up on Adam’s couch.

The next time Kris moved down by Alli she was studying him. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“As much as it pains me to tell you this when I could use it against you, you can’t lie for shit, Kristopher.”

Kris rolled his eyes and moved off with more alacrity than necessary to serve the small group of friends that had just entered the pub. Unfortunately, he could only find busy work for so long before he had to admit defeat and return to Alli. He took her a fresh Coke as an apology slash kiss up.

“Thank you,” Alli said, transferring her straw to the new glass. “But don’t think for a second that this lets you off the hook.”

Kris caved. Though he didn’t really think of it as caving, but as giving in to the inevitable. “Adam and I are going out tonight after my shift.”

“That’s awesome!” At Kris’ lack of enthusiasm she said, “It’s not awesome?”

“I’m gonna meet some of his friends.”

“That _is_ awesome! I mean, that he wants you to meet his friends.”

“Yeah, that’s great, just . . . what if they don’t like me?”

“Why wouldn’t they like you?”

Kris shrugged. He really wasn’t sure how to put his feelings into words. “I’ve met one of Adam’s friends, his ex, actually, and compared to him I’m kind of plain . . . and boring.”

“Hey, now, you quit that! You are neither plain nor boring. You’re actually pretty sexy,” Alli said, waggling her eyebrows.

Kris rolled his eyes at her even as his cheeks heated.

“Besides, whatever you are, Adam seems to like it.”

“Yeah,” Kris agreed weakly. But what if Adam thought Kris was exciting now just because he was new, then eventually he’d realize that Kris was the exact opposite of exciting.

The pub started to fill up, so Kris was kept too busy to think about meeting Adam’s friends even after Alexis Grace came on. Mrs. I showed up about a half hour before Alli’s set, and Kris served her immediately. He leaned across the bar and kissed her on the cheek as he placed her drink in front of her.

“Kris,” she said with a smile as she patted his hand. “How are you, dear?”

Before Kris could answer, Alli said, “He’s worried about meeting Adam’s friends.”

“I’m not . . . it’s just . . . .”

“He’s afraid they won’t like him, and then Adam will suddenly come to the realization that Kris is, like, boring, or something.”

Exasperated, Kris said, “Can I speak for myself, please?”

Alli held up her hands and rolled her eyes dramatically.

Kris opened his mouth to deny what Alli had said, sighed, then said, “What she said.”

“It’s only natural to be anxious about meeting your boyfriend’s friends, wanting to impress them, but just remember, he likes you enough to want you to meet them.”

“Thanks,” Kris said.

Kris was able to hold on to that until Adam walked into the pub with Brad in tow. The smile that spread across Adam’s face when their eyes met warmed Kris’ insides, and he couldn’t help smiling back, but when his gaze fell on Brad, Kris wondered again how he could live up to the flash of the other man.

Adam strode purposefully through the crowd and stepped up to Kris’ end of the bar. His smile widened at Kris’ blush when Adam leaned over the bar and gave him a kiss.

“Hey, babe.”

“Hey,” Kris said, flush deepening when Alexis Grace said, “Whooo!” and fanned herself with her hand.

Adam grinned at her over Kris’ shoulder, then turned his attention back to Kris. “Missed you.”

“Me, too. How was dinner?”

Adam glanced back at Brad who was looking around the pub with a dazed expression of the culture shocked. “It was an adventure. Everything with Brad usually is. Brad,” Adam said, getting his attention. When he pulled his gaze back to Adam, he said, “You remember Kris.”

“Of course. The man without a name found his home.”

“Hi,” Kris said. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“Please,” Brad said with feeling. “Something pink and frozen with a lot of alcohol.”

“Brad,” Adam said, reprimand with a side of amusement.

Brad shrugged. Kris moved off to make Brad’s drink, but he heard Adam introduce him to Mrs. I, who had come over to greet Adam.

“Which reminds me,” Adam said, “where’s Alli?”

Kris glanced over as Mrs. I raised her eyebrows and pointed towards the stage. Adam’s eyes went wide.

“How can that voice come out of that tiny body?”

Kris smiled, remembering his reaction when he’d first heard Alli sing.

“She got that from her father; I can’t sing a note.”

“She’s amazing!”

Kris poured the drink from the blender, sprayed whipped cream on top, garnished it with extra cherries, and added a pink umbrella. He set the drink in front of Brad, then turned to Mrs. I. “You need another drink?”

“No, dear, I’m good, I just came over to say hi to Adam.”

“That’s so sweet.”

Brad looked like he wanted to gag himself with the umbrella.

“What about you?” Kris asked Adam. “The usual?”

“You know, I think I’m in the mood for tequila tonight.”

“Straight, mixed, frozen?”

“Surprise me,” Adam said, looking at Kris as if he was thinking of something other than a drink.

Kris decided to make him a margarita. When he delivered it Adam took a sip, then licked the salt off his lips. Kris’ gaze fell to Adam’s lips, only looking away when Adam smiled.

“Perfect,” Adam said, and Kris huffed a laugh at the way Adam made him feel and act like a teenager before returning to work.

Even when he was busy Kris could feel Adam’s eyes on him, and each time their eyes met Adam gave him a smile and a look that promised things that made Kris’ entire body heat up. Yet every time Kris saw Brad’s bored expression he felt so out of his element, even on his home turf, so to speak.

When Kris brought Adam a fresh drink, he said, “Look, you guys don’t have to wait . . . .”

“What? Of course I’m waiting.”

“It’s just . . . Brad looks pretty bored.”

Adam didn’t even spare Brad a glance. “Brad’s a big boy; he can leave if he wants to.” He reached across the bar and took Kris’ hand in his. “I want to stay right here and watch you work and think about what it’s going to feel like to hold you on the dance floor.”

Kris went all soft and mushy inside. He wanted to climb over the bar and hug Adam, but he was saved from making a fool out of himself by Alli calling out Adam’s name from across the pub.

“You came!” she said as she threw herself at Adam.

“Of course I came,” Adam said, sliding off his stool so he could catch her without both of them hitting the floor. “I wouldn’t miss you singing.”

“So you didn’t come to see Kris?”

“Nah,” Adam said winking at Kris over her head. “You’re my gal.”

“So what did you think?”

“You were _amazing_! Girl, your voice, where does it even come from?”

Alli giggled, and Kris could’ve kissed Adam for making her happy. If the look Adam gave him was any indication Kris wasn’t hiding his feelings at all.

Kris set a bottle of water in front of Alli, and then served what seemed like half the bar taking advantage of her break to get refills. Alli returned to the stage and a steady stream of customers kept Kris busy. Whenever he had a chance he stopped by the end of the bar where Adam had struck up a conversation with David Cook, who had come in to pick up Archie after his shift. They both kept one eye on the stage, and in Adam’s case, the other on Kris.

Knowing that Adam couldn’t take his eyes off Kris for long made Kris’ chest feel suspiciously full, and a warmth that had nothing to do with his heart spread through his belly. Quickly spoken words, small touches, and stolen glances fueled Kris for the next hour until Blake appeared, clapped Kris on the shoulder and told him to take off.

Kris glanced at his watch. “I’m supposed to be on ‘til midnight.”

“You _were_ supposed to be on ‘til midnight.”

Kris was tempted. “But . . . I can’t just leave you . . . .”

“Kris, just say thank you, and then go make your boyfriend’s night.”

Kris’ face went hot. He glanced over at Adam, who had noticed their interaction and was watching them with a question on his face. Kris dropped his gaze to the towel in his hands. He slowly folded it in half, then in half again.

“Thank you,” Kris said obediently, then set the folded towel on the sink. He slid his eyes over to Adam, who was still watching him. “I’ll just, uh, go get my jacket then.”

“You do that. And have fun.”

Kris pointed his thumb towards the back of the pub and mouthed, “Jacket,” to Adam, who nodded, even though he still looked slightly confused. Kris tapped Alexis on the shoulder when he passed her.

“Night,” she said, not pausing her practiced motions as she poured and mixed.

Kris hurried back to the office, equal parts nervous and excited about going to the club with Adam. He grabbed his jacket and turned back to the door, stopping short when he saw Adam standing in the doorway.

“Going somewhere?”

“Yeah, actually,” Kris said as he slipped his arms into the sleeves. “There was this guy sitting at the bar, dark hair, really pretty blue eyes.” Kris’ gaze dropped to Adam’s lips. “Gorgeous smile.”

Adam cleared his throat, and Kris dragged his eyes away from Adam’s mouth.

“He said something about a club, dancing.”

“Did he?” Adam said, eyes glittering. “Sounds pretty forward. How do you know he’s not just trying to get in your pants?”

Kris stepped up to Adam and looked up at him. “I was kind of hoping that was the case.”

Adam laughed at that. He dropped his hands onto Kris’ hips. “Tease.”

Kris stretched up and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to Adam’s lips. “Who’s teasing?”

They stopped to get Brad on their way out. He and Alli were sitting beside each other talking about the colors in her hair if the way they were both studying a strand of it was any indication.

“You ready?” Adam said.

Brad looked like a man who’d just been let out of prison. “God, yes! No offense, pumpkin,” he told Alli, “but I need a place with brighter lights, louder music, and prettier boys wearing fewer clothes.”

Alli laughed. “No offense taken.” She looked right at Kris and said, “Have fun, boys.”

~*~*~*~

By the time they reached the club Kris’ emotions had veered sharply back towards anxious. Adam tugged on Kris’ hand and pulled him to a stop.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Kris lied. Or tried to.

Brad turned around when he realized that they’d stopped. “You two coming?”

Kris tugged Adam’s hand. “Come on, we should . . . .”

“Go ahead,” Adam said, eyes still locked on Kris’ face, “we’ll be right there.”

Brad rolled his eyes, and with a swish of his hips left them standing in the middle of the sidewalk, people parting around them as if they were pebbles in a stream. Adam just looked at him until Kris cracked.

“It’s just . . . your friends.”

Adam nodded.

“What if they don’t like me?”

Adam blinked, then shook his head. “What are you . . . seriously?”

Kris felt like he wasn’t saying it right. “I mean, I’m not like Brad.”

“No one’s like Brad,” Adam said wryly.

“You know, all bright colors and . . . tight pants . . . and . . . . I’m just me, plain . . . .”

“You are not plain, where do you even . . . ?”

“. . . and boring.”

“Whoa, hey now, Kris.”

“I don’t wear magenta pants and that . . . . “ He pointed to his chest.

“Chartreuse.”

“Chartreuse?” Kris said in disbelief. Adam nodded. “Okay, chartreuse shirt.”

Adam screwed his face up. “The pants are actually fuchsia.”

“Fuchsia,” Kris repeated. “See? I don’t even know the difference between magenta and fuchsia.”

“I don’t care about that.”

“I don’t want you to think I’m boring.”

“I don’t.”

“You will.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“See, now I’m ridiculous, pretty soon I’ll be boring.”

Adam curled his free hand around the back of Kris’ neck and crushed their mouths together. Kris reflexively opened to the kiss and lost himself in the heat of Adam’s mouth, the sweet clash of their tongues, until someone laughed and said, “Get a room boys, or share.”

Adam broke the kiss with a growl as he shot a glare towards the speaker. When he looked back at Kris his expression was soft.

“You are definitely not boring, baby.”

“That’s just sex, chemicals and stuff,” Kris said, even as he pressed closer to Adam.

“And that’s why I’ll never get bored with you, one reason, anyway, because my chemicals like your chemicals.”

Kris had to smile at Adam’s screwed up logic. “But . . . .”

“And I like your stupid sense of humor.”

“Stupid?”

“And the way your face scrunches up when you laugh.”

“My face?”

“I like your sexy accent.”

“Sexy?”

“And the way your ass looks in those jeans.” Adam slid his hand around Kris’ hip and squeezed said ass.

“It always comes back to sex with you, doesn’t it?” Kris teased.

“I love the way you look when you’re on stage, singing, just lost in it, and that you call your mom ‘mama’.

Kris’ breath caught at the slip. “You do?”

Adam didn’t even pretend to misunderstand. “Yeah, I really think I do.”

“Oh, well. Me, too. I mean, with your stupid face and all that other stuff you said.”

Adam laughed as he held Kris tight. “And they say romance is dead.”

“I can be romantic!” Kris said. “I’ll send you romantic texts.”

Adam raised a quizzical eyebrow. “Romantic texts?”

“You’ll see, you’ll totally love it.”

“You’re not gonna start texting me stuff like, ‘what are you wearing?’ are you?”

Kris busted out laughing. “Maybe.”

“Well,” Adam said, “it certainly wouldn’t be boring.”

“Adam.”

“Kris.”

Despite the joking and teasing, Kris’ stomach still fluttered with nerves. He plucked at Adam’s shirt. “I just, I really like you, like, a lot, and I want you to like me, too.”

“Sweetie.” Adam hugged him tight. “This is a big deal for me, too, because I really like you, and I really want you to like my friends.”

“Hey,” a soft female voice said from behind Kris, “Brad said you guys were out here, you gonna come in?”

“Danielle,” Adam said. He released Kris with one arm and held his hand out to her.

“What are we doing?” Danielle said, moving easily into Adam’s arm. “Group hug?”

Kris chuckled against Adam’s chest, slightly embarrassed to be caught in such an emotional situation, even though Danielle had no idea what she’d interrupted.

“We’re working through our nerves,” Adam told her, to Kris’ mortification. “I really want Kris to like you guys, and, well, Kris really wants you guys to like him.”

“Oh god,” Kris groaned into Adam’s shirt. “Really? I can’t believe you told her that.”

“I tell Danielle everything,” Adam said, and Kris’ head shot up, eyes wide with horror.

“Everything?”

Adam and Danielle laughed.

“Oh my god, your face,” Adam said through his laughter.

Kris poked Adam in the side. “Not. Funny.”

“I think I like him already,” Danielle said. “He cares whether we like him,” she said, ticking the points off on her fingers, “which is already way different than what’s his name . . . .”

“Okay, can we not . . . ?”

“He doesn’t take any crap from you, and, you were right, he does have a really nice ass.”

“Oh my god,” Kris said, huffing out a surprised laugh.

“Stop looking at his ass,” Adam commanded.

“Oh, please,” Danielle said. “I know you want _everyone_ to look at his ass just so you can tell them to suck it, he’s going home with you tonight.”

Adam didn’t even have the grace to look guilty. “Busted,” he chirped as he looked down at Kris. “You ready to go shake that thang, make everyone here who isn’t me jealous?”

“I don’t even know how to do that,” Kris protested.

“Oooh, nice accent,” Danielle said. “No wonder you like him.”

“I do not like him because of . . . well, not _just_ because of his accent,” Adam finally admitted.

“You like my accent,” Kris sing-songed, “you think it’s sexy.”

“I’m going to be sorry I told you that, aren’t I?”

Danielle laughed. “Yeah, come on, sweetie, I can’t wait to introduce you to the gang. They’re going to love you.”

“Wait,” Adam said, “I’m having second thoughts about this. Maybe we should go home, watch a movie.”

“Adam!” Kris called back, laughing as Danielle dragged him towards the entrance. “Don’t leave me!” he begged, only half joking.

~*~*~*~

Kris rose into wakefulness just far enough to remember that he was in Adam’s bed. He shifted, snuggling closer to the heat all along his front, and moaned softly as his body reminded him of everything they’d done last night.

“You okay, baby?” Adam mumbled sleepily.

“Mmm,” Kris said, thinking that, despite the aches, he’d never felt better.

At the club Danielle hadn’t released Kris until they’d reached the grouping of couch and chairs where everyone was sitting. She introduced him while Adam was sent off to get their drinks. Kris was torn between amusement and terror as he watched Adam’s back disappear.

There had been so many names flying at him that Kris gave up trying to keep straight which faces went with which names. When Adam came back with their drinks Kris eagerly slid under his arm and plastered himself against Adam’s side, where he felt safe and protected.

Safe and protected, that is, until Danielle removed the beer he was nursing from his hand, curled her small fingers around his, and dragged him out onto the dance floor. Kris had been steeling himself for Adam wanting to dance (Kris wasn’t very good at it, and as ridiculous as it was, he totally knew he was being ridiculous, he couldn’t help worrying because of what had happened the last time they’d gone to this club), so he’d been completely unprepared for Danielle’s move.

Kris looked back at Adam beseechingly and held his hand out, but Adam just smiled and waved as he was hauled off. Kris consoled himself by thinking very unflattering thoughts of Adam, at least until Adam pushed his way through the mob on the dance floor and kissed Danielle on the cheek before cutting in and pulling Kris into his arms.

“My hero,” Kris sighed as he slid his arms around Adam’s waist and pressed up close to him.

Adam growled past him, but when Kris looked around he couldn’t determine at whom it had been directed. He gave Adam a questioning look.

Adam looked a little bit chagrined, but he said, “I didn’t like the way they were looking at you.”

“Aww,” Kris teased, “you’re protecting my virtue. How sweet. But don’t you think it’s kinda like, out of the frying pan and into the fire?”

Adam laughed despite himself. “What, you don’t think your virtue’s safe with me?”

“I hope not,” Kris said, going up on his toes and pressing a kiss to Adam’s lips.

Adam moaned and parted his lips, inviting Kris to deepen the kiss. Kris slid one hand up to Adam’s shoulder and clung to him as he accepted. He licked at Adam’s lips and then into his mouth. Adam tightened his arms around Kris, crushing them together.

Adam only grudgingly broke the kiss when Brad popped up out of nowhere and said, “You do realize you’re on the dance floor, not in the backroom, don’t you?”

At Adam’s glare and, “Pot, kettle,” Brad held up his hands in surrender, though his laugh indicated he was doing anything but. “Just making sure.”

“Ass,” Adam said, his glare disappearing as quickly as it had appeared.

Brad slapped his own ass. “ _Fine_ ass, I believe you meant to say.”

Kris grinned at the byplay, and feeling emboldened by Adam’s arms around him, Kris leaned closer to Brad so he could be heard, and said, “That color you’re wearing,” Kris indicated the skin tight leather pants, “would you call that fuchsia or magenta?”

“You like?” Brad’s eyes lit up and he managed a respectable pirouette on the crowded dance floor.

Kris tried to look interested, and Brad was apparently satisfied with his response. He put a finger to his lips and said, “Actually, it’s raspberry. Gorgeous, isn’t it?”

“Raspberry,” Kris repeated, while Adam somehow managed to assure Brad that it was in fact a gorgeous color, especially on him, while biting his lip to keep from laughing at Kris, lest Brad misunderstand and take offense.

“I don’t think it’s your color, though, sweetie,” Brad said apologetically, laying a soothing hand on Kris’ arm.

Eyes wide, Kris shook his head no in agreement.

“Don’t worry, we’ll find you something fabulous.”

Kris shook his head again, this time in disagreement.

“Black,” Adam suggested, and Kris turned betrayed eyes on him.

“Well of course black,” Brad said, “that’s a no brainer – though it really isn’t true that everyone looks good in black – but I’m talking _color_ ,” he ended dramatically. “This boy needs some color in his life that isn’t plaid.”

Kris shook his head even harder, and pinched Adam (who was laughing too hard to speak) in the side.

“Maybe turquoise,” Brad mused, and then wandered off muttering, “I think I saw someone here with a scarf . . . .”

“I hate you,” Kris hissed, which only made Adam laugh harder. “It’s not funny,” Kris said, poking at Adam’s sides until Adam grabbed both Kris’ hands and pinned them behind his back. Kris gasped, his head falling back as his hips rocked forward, and the laughter died on Adam’s lips.

Adam squeezed lightly, and Kris moaned as his eyelashes fluttered closed.

“Fuck,” Adam groaned, just before he claimed Kris’ lips.

Kris kissed Adam back hard, and pushed up against him. He tugged on his wrists, mewling into Adam’s mouth and grinding against his thigh as Adam tightened his grip. Adam’s other hand cupped Kris’ ass, fingers pushing the material between his cheeks, the touch just enough to tease at the promise of more.

Adam released Kris’ lips and bent to his neck. Kris bit his bottom lip to keep from crying out when Adam found the sensitive spot behind his ear. Kris tried to climb Adam, not caring that they were in the middle of a crowded dance floor.

“Adam,” Kris said, not even trying to sound like he wasn’t begging.

“Yeah,” Adam said, sounding just as desperate. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Backroom?” Kris said, eyes wide and heart thumping. He’d never been in the backroom of a club before. He was pretty sure.

“No,” Adam said in a low growl that sent a shiver down Kris’ spine. “Fuck, _fuck_ , I can’t believe you _said_ that.”

Kris couldn’t believe he’d said it, either, and yet, if Adam had said yes, Kris would have followed him there willingly.

“That would be so hot. Everyone hearing the sounds you make when you come, knowing I’m the one taking you apart. Fuck yeah, they’d want you, but I’d kill anyone who touched you. But not yet. I’m not ready for anyone else to know what you look like when you come.”

Kris whimpered Adam’s name as he desperately rubbed against him, Adam’s words turning him on more than Kris would have ever believed possible.

“You need it, baby?” Adam said, but Kris could hear the same desperation in Adam’s voice that he felt.

“Yes, yes, Adam, please.”

Adam released Kris’ wrists so he could walk, but held Kris close to him, hands sliding over him in a manner that was anything but soothing, grip just tight enough to make Kris want to push Adam’s hand down further. Before they reached the freedom of the front door they were intercepted by Cassidy.

“Going somewhere?”

“Yes,” Adam said firmly.

Before they could get away from Cassidy, Danielle appeared, taking Adam’s arm and guiding them towards the sitting area they’d commandeered.

“We were just leaving,” Adam told her.

“No, you’re not.”

Kris pressed himself against Adam’s side and whined, “Adam!”

Adam squeezed his side reassuringly, but somehow Kris wasn’t reassured as everything began to spiral out of their control.

“You wanted Kris to meet your friends . . . .”

“He’s met everyone!” Adam said.

Kris nodded his agreement. “I have.”

Danielle didn’t even dignify that with a response. “. . . but we’ve spent all of five minutes with him, hardly time to get to know him. You’re just going to have to put off your booty call for an hour or so.”

“Is she serious?” Kris asked Adam.

“I’m afraid so,” Adam said as Danielle pushed him towards an empty chair.

Danielle sank down onto the couch without waiting for Adam to take his seat, apparently unconcerned that he’d attempt another escape. “Kris can sit over here with us,” she said, patting the small empty patch of cushion beside her, “if you think he’ll be too much temptation.”

“We’ll manage,” Adam said dryly. He sat, then pulled Kris down onto his lap, curling a possessive hand around his hip.

Kris thought he should be at least a little bit embarrassed, but the laughter at Adam’s comment was good-natured and mostly directed at Adam, so Kris just made himself comfortable. He bit back a groan when his hip ground into Adam’s hardness. Adam gave him a grin that was all teeth, feral and predatory, and tightened his hold on Kris to drag him closer.

“Comfortable?” Adam said.

“That’s not the word I’d use,” Kris said, wondering if there was any sense in trying to cover his own arousal. He slipped his arm around Adam’s neck and pressed his forehead to the side of Adam’s head.

Adam laughed, a truly joyous laugh, and Kris wondered how Adam could be so relaxed when _he_ was strung taut as a bowstring and his jeans were uncomfortably tight, but Adam’s delight was contagious and Kris couldn’t help but join in his laughter.

“I hate you,” Kris said, lips brushing Adam’s ear.

“No you don’t,” Adam said, settling his other hand on Kris’ knee, fingers curled over the inside, thumb stroking.

Kris sucked in a sharp breath, then breathlessly agreed, “No, I don’t,” as Adam slid his hand a little higher.

The sharp edge of desire receded as they were drawn into conversation, but was never far from the front of Kris’ mind, especially with Adam’s erection continuing to dig into his hip, and Adam’s hot possessive hands holding onto him.

Kris spoke with Cassidy about playing guitar, and Alisan joined in when the conversation turned to song writing, and somehow Kris ended up with a fringed turquoise scarf (that Brad swore he hadn’t swiped) wrapped around his neck and draped artfully (Brad’s word) over his shoulder.

Not long after that Adam started whispering in Kris’ ear all the things he could do to Kris with that scarf (wrapping it around his wrists and tying him to the headboard so he was at Adam’s complete mercy was the tamest) as he teased his fingers up the inside of Kris’ thigh. Finally Kris broke, and he gave up on trying to pretend that Adam’s words weren’t affecting him.

“That’s it,” Kris said, arranging himself more comfortably in his jeans, “we’re leaving.”

He slid off Adam’s lap, clutching the hand Adam had between his legs and dragging an unresisting Adam to his feet. Grinning, Adam let himself be pulled until he was close enough to wrap both arms around Kris and give him a full body hug that had Adam’s cock digging into Kris’ belly, and Kris’ into Adam’s hip. Kris moaned and stretched, arms going around Adam’s neck.

“Adam,” Kris breathed, “please.”

“Oh, yeah, we’re leaving,” Adam said, and Kris felt a rush of relief. “Gonna make you feel so good, baby.”

“Now,” Kris demanded, knowing it had come out more of a plea than he’d intended when Adam laughed.

Kris would’ve pinched him if Adam wasn’t saying goodbye to his friends and promising to get together again soon. Kris managed to remember his manners long enough to tell Adam’s friends that it had been a pleasure to meet them.

Danielle smiled and said, “Oh, sweetie, the pleasure was all ours.”

Kris wasn’t sure what she meant by that, but he didn’t think about it long because Adam tucked him up against his side and swept him out of the club and into a waiting cab. The taxi ride home was hell because Adam didn’t stop touching him or kissing him, but he always stopped short of letting Kris come.

Kris was beyond frustrated when the cab dropped them off at Adam’s apartment. Kris knew that Adam had to be as well, but the only indication he gave was the hard length of him pressing against Kris.

“Adam, please, I wanna come,” Kris whined as he rubbed himself against Adam.

Adam took his arms and pushed Kris back a step, breaking their connection. “What if I said ‘no’?” Adam said, and Kris’ eyes went wide. He shivered as Adam slowly drew the scarf from around his neck. Kris suddenly remembered all of Adam’s promises from earlier, and the slide show of images they created in his mind hit him with a wave of desire.

“Come on, baby, let’s get you naked so I can have my wicked way with you.”

“I thought you’d _never_ ask,” Kris said.

“Aww, sweetie, are you pouting again?” Adam teased.

“I’ll show you pouting if you make me wait any longer,” Kris threatened weakly as he fell back onto the bed and pulled Adam down after him.

“Need it bad, do you?”

“Like you don’t,” Kris said, retaliating by shoving his hand between them and rubbing Adam’s hard length through his jeans.

Adam groaned and pushed reflexively into Kris’ hand.

“You know, you look all sweet and innocent on the outside, but on the inside you’re . . . .”

Kris squeezed.

“. . . oh, fuck . . . perfect,” Adam finished. “So fucking perfect. Wanna fuck you tonight . . . can I . . . Kris.”

Kris’ stomach flipped over a dozen times at Adam’s question, and he tipped his head back as Adam licked and bit and suckled at his throat. “Yes, yes, Adam, please.”

Adam dragged himself away, and Kris was torn between letting him go and keeping him close, even though releasing him was the only way to get what they both wanted. A flurry of elbows and knees that didn’t connect with any important bits through sheer luck, and they were both naked.

Without preamble Adam went down on Kris and sucked him into his mouth. Kris automatically thrust up before he could stop himself, then reached down and patted Adam’s head in apology. Adam looked up at Kris with eyes gone dark as his lips moved up and down Kris, and then he popped off him.

“Do it, fuck my mouth,” Adam said, then covered him again.

Kris groaned. He pushed up into Adam’s mouth, careful at first because he really didn’t want to hurt him, but the longer Adam sucked him, humming around him and pressing his tongue against him in all the right places, the less control Kris had over his thrusts.

Kris pushed his hands into Adam’s hair and gently cradled his head as he pushed up into his mouth. Adam’s hands moved over Kris’ body, touching him everywhere he could reach. Sliding up his sides and grazing his nipples. Reaching up and pressing two fingers into Kris’ mouth. Slipping between his legs and rolling his balls. Teasing that spot behind, and then back further.

Kris rammed himself into Adam’s mouth when Adam’s finger rubbed over his hole. “Oh god . . . sorry . . . please!”

Adam hummed around him as he pressed the tip of his finger inside him, and Kris lost his rhythm as he writhed between Adam’s finger and his mouth. Adam pushed his finger in further, and the dry burn of the stretch only made Kris more desperate for relief.

Kris forced himself down on Adam’s finger until it was all the way inside him. Adam gave a concerned hum even as his finger found that spot inside Kris that made him see stars. (The good kind, this time.)

Kris thrust up once, twice more before emptying himself onto Adam’s tongue. Adam kept his finger inside Kris, rubbing over his prostate as he milked his release from him. Kris’ entire body jolted with each little electric shock Adam’s relentless touch inside him created. His cock pulsed until he was empty, and then once more, and again, until he had to beg Adam to stop.

Adam carefully withdrew his finger. He gently licked Kris clean, stopping before Kris became too sensitive. Adam knelt up and reached into his beside table, returning with a bottle of lube. He squeezed some onto his fingers and coated himself with it, then pressed one slick finger back inside Kris as he stroked himself with his other hand.

Kris moaned as Adam’s finger filled him once more, but he was too worn out to do anything except slit his eyes open and watch Adam jerk himself off over Kris while watching his own finger move in and out of Kris’ body. The concentration on Adam’s face, the way he bit his lip so hard it looked like he might draw blood, made Kris’ entire body tense as if it was even possible for him to get hard again so soon after the most explosive orgasm he’d ever had (memory loss be damned).

Kris pushed himself up on his elbow, moaning as the change in position also changed the angle of Adam’s finger inside him. He reached out his hand and wrapped his fingers around Adam’s hand.

Adam drew his hand out from beneath Kris’ hand, closed his fingers over it, and guided Kris’ movements as together they stroked him, showing Kris exactly how he liked it, what he needed. Kris swiped his thumb across the tip and Adam’s eyes fluttered closed even as his finger pulled out far enough that he could stroke his thumb against the rim of Kris’ hole.

Kris’ body jerked at the stimulation and his nail scored the head of Adam’s cock. Adam gave a startled gasp and shuddered as he came all over Kris’ hand and belly.

“Fuck,” Adam groaned, sagging forward as he continued to work their joined hands over his pulsing cock.

When they’d wrung him dry Adam slumped forward, catching himself with a hand on the mattress beside Kris’ head, and then lowered himself so he lay half on, half off of Kris. Adam buried his face in Kris’ neck and mouthed at the sensitive skin. Kris moaned as Adam moved his finger inside him once more before gently withdrawing it.

Adam said, “At least I’m going to die happy.”

Kris grunted his acknowledgment, then said, “How about you don’t die at all, and just be happy?”

“Aww, that’s so sweet. We’ll still have sex, though, right?”

Kris chuckled. “It really _is_ all about sex with you, isn’t it?”

“I just can’t imagine looking at your delectable ass for the rest of my life and not being able to, you know.”

“Touch it?”

“Mmm, yeah, touch it. And kiss it, and lick it, and bite it . . . .”

Kris laughed. “Sounds like you’re gonna be busy.”

“You have no idea,” Adam said, pressing a hard smacking kiss to Kris’ lips. “I’d better get us cleaned up before we’re stuck together.”

Kris eyes went wide and he laughed at the slight sting as their skin peeled apart when Adam moved off of him.

“Oops,” Adam laughed, “too late.”

Kris closed his eyes and listened to Adam’s steps as they retreated to the bathroom, the sound of running water, Adam humming as he wet a wash cloth, wiped himself off, then rinsed it.

“Are you writing ‘property of Adam Lambert’ on your belly?”

Kris smiled without opening his eyes. His fingers had gone to the drying mess on his stomach, drawing squiggles and abstract shapes at first, and then letters. “No.”

“But you did write my name.”

Kris’ eyes slid open. “You were watching me?”

Adam shrugged. “I like watching you.”

Kris didn’t know why that statement, spoken so matter-of-factly, made him blush when Adam watching his finger move in and out of Kris’ ass hadn’t.

Adam raised Kris’ hand and sucked his finger into his mouth. Kris moaned as Adam thoroughly licked his finger clean. Adam released Kris’ finger and wiped his belly with the cooling wash cloth, then tossed it onto the floor.

Adam flopped onto the bed next to Kris and said, “I’m hungry. You hungry?”

Kris’ stomach growled in reply and they both laughed. He’d been too nervous about going out with Adam and his friends to eat anything at the pub, and now that Adam mentioned it he realized that he was starving.

They padded naked over to the small kitchen area and Adam opened a cupboard. He got out a couple of boxes and set them on the counter, then a tray. Next he got out a knife and cutting board, and several different types of cheese from the fridge.

Kris put a handful of each different kind of cracker on the tray while Adam sliced the cheese. Adam added a clump of grapes, and then poured a glass of wine.

“Bed?”

Kris carried the tray over and held it while Adam deposited the glass on the night stand, then plumped up the pillows and sat back against them. Kris handed the tray to Adam, and then crawled up to sit beside him. They set the tray between them and ate the first few mouthfuls without speaking.

Once their hunger had been assuaged they slowed down and took turns feeding each other. They slowed down even further when Kris sucked Adam’s fingers into his mouth along with a grape, and then Adam licked spilled wine off Kris’ belly, detouring to lap at a nipple before claiming his mouth.

The tray ended up on the floor (Kris hoped Adam had a vacuum cleaner or they’d be crushing cracker crumbs into the rug), and Kris splayed out across Adam’s bed, Adam’s hands slowly exploring every inch of skin he could reach as they kissed.

Adam broke the kiss long enough to reach down to the floor, then drew a soft bit of material up Kris’ legs. Kris knew what it was before he even saw it. He shivered and nodded when Adam said, “Can I?”

Adam took his time teasing the material over Kris’ skin, belly and nipple, throat and the inside of his elbow, before wrapping one end around his wrist. Adam pulled both of Kris’ arms in front of him and tied his wrists together, then raised his arms above his head and pinned his wrists to the mattress.

Adam kissed him, then said, “Keep them there,” when he pulled away.

Kris bit his bottom lip as he pulled against the scarf binding his wrists, and pressed his hands into the mattress as Adam took his time searching out every spot that made Kris gasp or wriggle or beg. Sucking on his collarbone, lapping at a nipple, teething his hip. Kris arched up as Adam’s teeth grazed a trail down the inside of his thigh, then licked behind his knee.

And still Adam wasn’t done with him. Kris lost track of everything except for the tongue, and lips, and fingers moving over him. He had no idea how many minutes (or hours or days) passed before he felt Adam’s breath on his cock.

Kris whimpered with his need of it.

“Need something, baby?”

“Yes,” Kris moaned. “Adam, please.”

Adam moved up over Kris and kissed him. His cock, hard and leaking, dragged over his thigh. Kris moaned. He raised his knee and pressed his leg against Adam. (Adam had only said he couldn’t move his hands, Kris reasoned, and besides, all was fair in love and war, and Kris figured this was both.)

“Fuck,” Adam groaned as he ground down against Kris’ thigh. “You’re not supposed to move.”

“Not s’posed to move my _hands_ ,” Kris replied, unable to hide how pleased he was with himself at finding the loophole.

“I don’t think you’re abiding by the spirit of our agreement, Kristopher.”

“Abiding?” Kris said, flabbergasted at Adam’s ability to still think. “How can you even . . . oh, fuck, Adam!”

“You were saying?” Adam said as he circled his thumb over Kris’ hole.

Kris thrashed his head on the pillow. “No, I wasn’t, god, Adam, please.”

Adam knelt up between Kris’ thighs and pressed in, watching his thumb disappear into Kris’ body. Adam’s gaze moved up to Kris’ and held before slowly and deliberately moving back down his body to the hand moving between his legs. Adam withdrew his thumb and pressed back in with two fingers, watching Kris’ body open around them.

Kris moaned at the stretch, but the initial burn soon faced, and then was eclipsed by the sparks shooting through his body when Adam found his prostate again.

Adam bent over Kris and suckled a nipple, then moved his attention to the other. He sucked, and licked, and bit until Kris’ nipples were ultra-sensitive, even the slightest breath blown across them sending shock waves through him on a direct path to his dick.

Adam licked a path down Kris’ belly to his cock. He lapped up the small puddle of come that had formed, then closed his mouth over Kris and probed the slit at the head of his cock with the tip of his tongue. Kris thought he might die if Adam didn’t let him come.

Kris only realized that he’d said that out loud when Adam released him with an obscene slurp and smirked at him. “Nobody’s ever _actually_ died of blue balls, baby,” Adam said as he pulled out of Kris, then pushed back in with three fingers.

Kris’ mouth dropped open and his eyes rolled back. He gasped as Adam’s fingers worked him open and probed deeply until Kris was ready to just push Adam onto his back and climb on top of him and ride him until they both came.

Adam groaned. “Next time, baby,” he promised, and then carefully pulled out of Kris and reached for a condom. He ripped the foil with his teeth, then rolled it on. In his haste Adam squirted way more lube on his cock than they’d use in a week. Kris would’ve chuckled at the mess if he wasn’t as desperate as Adam.

Adam positioned himself over Kris, against him, and pressed in. Kris panted against the stretch for what seemed like _years_ before Adam was fully sheathed within his body. Eyes squeezed shut, Adam held himself still. Kris wiggled his hips in disapproval of that plan.

Adam opened eyes darkened with his arousal, and gazed directly into Kris’. Kris raised his head and captured Adam’s mouth. He bit Adam’s lip when he broke the kiss and said, “Fuck me. Now.”

Adam began to move.

“Adam,” Kris whimpered.

“Okay,” Adam allowed, and Kris brought his arms down so he could touch Adam.

His arms ached at the change in position, but he was more concerned with the feel of Adam’s skin, hot and sweat slick beneath his palms. He licked at Adam’s lips and whispered, “Come on, Adam, come on.”

He lifted one leg and hooked it around Adam’s hip. Adam slid in deeper on the next thrust, and they both groaned. Kris’ head went back and Adam closed his teeth on the tendon in Kris’ neck as he thrust harder, faster.

“Yeah, Adam.” Kris got his fingers in Adam’s hair and pulled on it even as he pressed Adam’s face to his throat. “Please.”

Adam growled against Kris’ neck, and then released him to drag his lips up to Kris’ ear. “Fuck, Kris, you feel so good . . . I can’t . . . I’m gonna . . . .”

“Yes, Adam, yes.”

“Need you to . . . .”

And that was all it took for Kris to come apart. He shuddered as every muscle in his body clenched and his release washed over him in wave after wave of pleasure. Adam groaned what sounded like Kris’ name. His hips stuttered against Kris as he lost his rhythm, and then he went completely still above him.

Kris felt weak as a newborn kitten after his climax, and his leg slid off Adam’s hip. He was glad that his wrists were tied together if only so he could keep holding on to Adam.

Adam thrust into Kris one final time, as if trying to extend his orgasm for as long as he could, and Kris shivered as his prostate received one last stroke. He whimpered, and Adam kissed the side of his head.

“Sorry, baby, sorry . . . you feel so good . . . could stay here forever.”

“Mmm,” Kris agreed. He turned his head and blindly searched for Adam’s mouth. Adam’s lips found his and they kissed softly, slowly; tongues passing over lips and sweeping into mouths as if they had all the time in the world. Adam lowered himself on to Kris, slipped out of him, rolled them to their sides and pulled Kris impossibly close, and still they kissed, each committing to memory the taste of the other.

~*~*~*~

“Hey,” Adam said, stroking his hand down Kris’ back, “where’d you go?”

Kris blushed in a way he hadn’t at the memories of last night, and buried his face in Adam’s chest. “Nowhere.”

“Aww, baby, don’t be shy,” Adam teased.

“I’m not,” Kris insisted, “it’s just . . . .”

“Tell me.”

“I don’t know,” Kris told Adam’s nipple. “It’s one thing thinking about us, you know . . . .” Kris shivered. “. . . and another thing that you know I was thinking about us . . . .” He shrugged instead of saying the words.

“Why?”

“I don’t know, it just is.”

“Would it help if I told you that I’ll be thinking about it all day? And when I’m not, I’ll be thinking about when we can do it again, and what other things we can try?”

“Um, no!” Kris squeaked. “I won’t be able to look at you at _all_ today without blushing now!”

Adam laughed. “Would you believe me if I said I was sorry?”

“No,” Kris grumbled.

“You know me so well already, Kristopher,” Adam sighed. “If anyone’s going to get bored, it’s you.”

Through the teasing Kris could hear the very real concern of it in Adam’s voice. Kris didn’t know how Adam could think anyone would ever get bored of him. He raised his face and kissed Adam’s jaw, then slithered up until he could reach his mouth. He pushed Adam’s hair back and cupped his cheek.

“Never gonna happen.”

Adam huffed out a tiny laugh. “Aren’t we a pair?”

“Yep.” Kris nodded. “We totally deserve each other.”

Adam’s smile reached his eyes this time. “We really do.” He dropped a kiss on Kris’ nose. “Know what else we deserve?”

Kris was afraid to even guess.

“Breakfast!” Adam said, which Kris could totally get on board with, but then Adam went on to say, “And then, after we’re fortified, shopping! Come on, let’s hit the shower.”

“Shopping?” Kris said, but he was speaking to Adam’s bare naked ass.

“Quit staring at my ass, Kristopher, and get out of bed. Shopping waits for no man.”

Kris groaned. He hated shopping. This day was going to suck so hard. He wondered if he could convince Adam that he had to clean his apartment. Or do laundry. Or wash his hair! Kris ran his fingers through his short hair. Maybe some kind of all day conditioning treatment; surely Adam, of all people (given the amount of product in his bathroom), could get behind that.

Unfortunately, Kris’ pouty face had nothing on Adam’s, which is how they ended up at the mall after Adam whipped up the best veggie omelet Kris had ever eaten, while Kris took on toast duty. The only thing that made the thought of shopping the slightest bit palatable was the fact that he’d be spending the day with Adam, and that Adam hadn’t let go of Kris’ hand since they left his apartment.

They shopped for boots

 _“Leopard print, really?” Kris said. Adam looked him over and sniffed haughtily. “That coming from a person who has zero fashion sense.” “Hey, plaid is a valid fashion choice.”_

jackets

  
 _Kris pointed to the dangerous looking spikes on the shoulder of the jacket Adam was modeling. “Those look kinda . . . sharp. I didn’t think hugging was supposed to be a blood sport.” Adam pressed the tip of one finger to the pointy end of a spike, then sucked the wounded digit into his mouth. “Yeah,” he agreed, but he gave the jacket a sad look in farewell after he reluctantly replaced it on the hanger._   


and jeans

 _Kris couldn’t take his eyes off Adam’s ass in the jeans he modeled in front of the tri-fold mirror. “I want to blow you right now,” Kris said out loud even though he’d tried very hard to keep it inside his head. Adam’s eyes met Kris’ in the mirror. “I am so buying these jeans,” he said as he dragged Kris into the changing stall and locked the door behind them._

before stopping at a sunglasses kiosk on their way out of the mall.

Kris thought that between the two of them they’d tried on just about every single pair of sunglasses on display. Adam decided he had to have a midnight blue pair with rhinestones on the upper corners and the ear pieces.

“How about you?” Adam said. “The purple? No, the orange ones!”

“I don’t really think I’m an orange,” Kris said, smiling at Adam’s enthusiasm.

Adam just hmm’d as he studied Kris, then snagged a pair of glasses off the display rack and went to pay for them. Kris waited, resigned, for Adam to return.

Adam was wearing the blue sunglasses when he stopped in front of Kris and slipped the pair he’d bought for him onto his face. Kris took them off so he could see what he was wearing – the tortoiseshell pair he’d tried on twice. Of course Adam had noticed.

“Boring?” Kris said, looking at the glasses.

“Classic,” Adam replied, slipping his arm through Kris’ and starting them moving towards the exit. “Besides, would someone boring have just blown me in the dressing room?”

“Adam!” Kris felt his face heat to a fire engine red as he slapped at Adam’s arm and looked around frantically to see if anyone had overheard him. His gaze finally landed on Adam, who gave him an unrepentant grin.

Something inside Kris cracked open and he had to laugh at the wonderful ridiculousness of the whole situation. He leaned in and raised his face, offering his mouth to Adam for a kiss that Adam was quick to deliver.

“And if you wear those jeans tonight I’ll blow you in Blake’s office after my set,” Kris said. He pushed the glasses back onto his face and smirked at Adam’s sharp inhalation.

~*~*~*~

They arrived at the pub an hour before Kris’ set despite the amount of time Adam had spent in front of the mirror, and the fact that Kris was moving a little more carefully than he had been even that morning.

 _“We can do that thing you mentioned last night,” Adam cajoled. At Kris’ questioning look, Adam clarified. “Where you wanted to push me back on the bed and ride me like a pony.” Kris blushed. “I never said anything about a . . . .” Kris cut off when he saw Adam’s shit eating grin. He pushed Adam back onto the bed, and climbed on top of him, and rode him like a pony. At one point, when they were both covered with sweat and Kris’ thighs were burning with the effort, he bit Adam’s earlobe and then said, “Giddyup, cowboy,” and Adam groaned out a laugh and came so hard he nearly bucked Kris off him._

Alli was on them before they reached the bar, as if she’d been watching the door for them.

“Hey, you guys,” she said, giving them both a squeeze. “I’ve been waiting for you. Mom and Blake are talking about sports and colleges.” She wrinkled her face up. “I need someone to distract them.”

“Adam’s a pretty good distraction,” Kris said, shooting a smile at Adam.

“Me? I’m not the one who . . . I mean, you’re not so bad yourself, Kristopher.”

Kris was blushing furiously, but he couldn’t stop grinning. He leaned in for a kiss and Adam bussed his lips.

“You guys are so cute! It would be sickening on anyone else, but somehow it works on you two.”

“Thanks,” Kris said dryly. He slid his hand into Adam’s and let Alli lead them over to the table where Blake and Mrs. I sat. Kris raised his free hand to Megan and Alexis, both busy behind the bar.

Kris waved a greeting to Blake as he gave Mrs. I a hug. Adam shook Blake’s hand, and then kissed Mrs. I on the cheek. Before Kris could go to the bar and order their drinks, Megan appeared with a tray. She planted a quick kiss on Kris’ cheek and then handed out the drinks.

“Hey, sweetie.”

“Hey, Megan. Thank you. How’s Ryder doing?” Kris asked when the image of a little boy flashed through his mind.

Megan’s smile filled her face. “He’s an angel, of course. When he’s not trying the patience of a saint.”

Megan said a quick hello to Adam, then returned to the bar. Kris offered to take Adam’s jacket to the office, but Adam chose to accompany him. Kris hung his jacket on the coat rack, then reached for Adam’s. Adam was looking around the room, rather than paying attention to Kris, so Kris had to snag the jacket out of his hand.

Kris looked around to see if he could spot whatever it was that Adam found so fascinating. “What are you looking at?” he asked after he’d hung up Adam’s jacket.

“Oh, nothing,” Adam said with faux innocence. “Just thinking about what’s going to happen in here later.”

Kris burst out laughing even as his cheeks (and other places) went hot at the reminder. He threw his arms around Adam and butted his forehead against Adam’s chest, then lifted his face for a kiss. Adam happily complied, his lips curved up in a smile when he pressed them against Kris’.

They returned to the table where the other three waited for them, Kris’ hand wrapped in Adam’s because he loved the connection. Alli hadn’t forgotten Adam’s earlier comment, so (eyes sparkling with mischief) she cheekily asked what they’d been up to all day. When she found out they’d gone shopping she gave Kris a raised eyebrow, and then talked fashion with Adam.

Kris spoke with Blake and Mrs. I, but he was highly conscious of Adam’s hand, heavy and warm on his knee. He set his hand on top of Adam’s and twisted their fingers together.

“Coming through,” Anoop said as he sat an overflowing plate of nachos in the middle of the table.

Kris said, “Oh my god, yes, I can’t go on without these!”

Alli’s smile as she watched Kris dig in was the only indication that Kris had remembered something from before the mugging. He still occasionally got weirded out when he thought about how the people around him knew more about him (the past him, anyway) than he did, but he got that feeling less and less. He credited Adam in part, because he liked whoever Kris was now, and his friends, who seemed to be going with the flow and not pressuring him to be who he was before.

When his beer was empty, Kris went up to the bar to order another round instead of bothering Anoop with it. He was leaning on the bar talking to Megan as she poured drinks and set them on a tray when someone touched his back and said, “Hey, sweetie.”

Kris knew it wasn’t Adam even before he heard the female voice. He turned to verify what his ears told him.

“Danielle!” Kris said as they hugged. “What are you doing here?”

“Adam’s been talking about you for weeks, you think I’d turn down a chance to see you sing?”

“I . . . weeks, really?”

Danielle laughed. “You really are cute.”

“You’re all set, Kris,” Megan said.

“Oh, thanks. Uh, Megan, this is Danielle, a friend of Adam’s; Danielle, Megan.”

The two women exchanged ‘hello’s and shook hands.

“Nice tats,” Danielle said.

Megan looked pleased at the compliment. “Thanks. Can I get you something to drink?”

Danielle ordered and Kris had Megan add her drink to his tab.

“I need to get something for the princess over there, too,” she said.

Kris glanced over at the table, where she’d gestured, and they both said, “Something pink and frozen.”

Their eyes met and they laughed. “And don’t forget the umbrella,” Kris told Megan with a smile.

Danielle took her drink and Kris carried the rest back to the table on a tray. He unloaded the drinks and got a thank you squeeze to the back of his thigh from Adam. Kris smiled at him, then turned his attention to the man sitting in his seat.

“Brad, I didn’t think you’d ever step foot in O’Riley’s again.”

“Neither did I, sugar, but I was promised good music and lots of alcohol to share my fabulous self with all these straight boys.” Brad made a gesture that included all the patrons of the pub.

Blake snorted. “I think your gaydar might be busted.”

“Impossible,” Brad said.

Blake just shrugged, which irritated Brad and made him take a second look at the men and women filling the pub. Brad shook his head.

“Queers have a much better fashion sense,” he stated. His eyes fell on Kris. “Well, except for you, but you’re the exception that proves the rule.”

“Glad to have a purpose,” Kris said as he let Adam draw him down onto his lap.

Brad ignored him and spoke to Blake. “But there’s no way that this many homos are in need of a gay fashion intervention,” he declared.

“What about me?” Alli said.

Brad waved his hand. “Not you, pumpkin, you could _totally_ be gay.”

Blake choked off a laugh, and Mrs. I actually snorted into her drink, but Alli just preened. “Thank you.”

“Welcome, darlin’.”

Anoop appeared with Brad’s drink, and Brad squealed.

“Thank you, sugar,” Brad told Anoop, pinching his backside as he turned to walk away before taking a sip and then sighing happily. “And you remembered my umbrella,” he told Kris. “If it wasn’t for your appalling fashion sense, and Adam ripping my balls off, of course, I’d totally steal you away from him.”

Kris’ eyes went wide, and then he burst out laughing. He turned to Adam, who looked like he was torn between laughing and warning Brad off, just in case he was serious. Kris touched Adam’s face to get his attention, then said, “Hey.”

“Hey, yourself,” Adam said, smiling a little sheepishly at Kris.

Kris pressed his forehead to Adam’s, then gave him a kiss. He thought it would probably be a bad idea to admit how much Adam’s possessive behavior turned him on, but he had a feeling that he wasn’t all that tough for Adam to read.

Everyone gathered around the table fell into an easy conversation. Brad even spent some time speaking with Mrs. I about college and artistic freedom. Matt showed up, and Kris (stroking a soothing thumb against the back of Adam’s neck) invited him to join them.

The closer it got to performance time, the more antsy Kris got until he was bouncing on Adam’s lap and strumming guitar on his own leg. Adam pressed his lips to Kris’ ear and said, “Better stop that, baby.”

Kris froze when he realized what his bouncing was doing to Adam. “Sorry,” he said, cursing the fact that he blushed so easily.

Adam grinned at Kris as he rubbed his leg. “Don’t be sorry. I don’t mind. Your friends might, though, if I throw you over the table and have my wicked way with you.”

Kris laughed, because it was either that or think way too much about the image Adam’s words created in his mind.

Finally Blake excused himself to make sure everything was ready on stage, and Kris gave Adam a kiss before sliding off his lap and heading to the office to get his guitar. He returned with the guitar hanging down his back and waited for Blake to announce him. Adam came over while Kris was waiting and pushed him back down the hall a step, and back against the wall. The kiss they shared was short and sweet, but with a tantalizing hint of what waited for Kris later.

Adam smiled, said, “Kick ass, Kristopher,” and left Kris standing there, licking his lips.

Still dazed by the kiss, it took Kris a few seconds to realize that Blake had announced his name. It wasn’t until Alli’s wolf whistles and Brad’s cat calls sunk in that Kris pushed himself away from the wall Adam had pressed him to. He shook his head in a futile attempt to clear it of Adam, and walked over to the stage. Kris stepped up and shook Blake’s hand, then pushed the stool away (because he preferred to stand) and adjusted the microphone.

Kris glanced over at the table where his and Adam’s friends both sat, mingling and chatting as if they’d known each other for longer than a few days, or a few hours, in some cases. Though some memories were trickling back Kris couldn’t remember much from before the mugging, but he still had his friends and family, and he thought that maybe he’d somehow managed to hold onto the most important things from before, and the most important bits of himself.

As his eyes caught Adam’s, Kris had the notion that if he never got those memories back, just maybe he’d found something worth the trade off. Kris pressed his lips to the microphone and smiled. He was happy to be on stage, performing, but he realized that he was also just happy to _be_. His life, Kris thought as he dragged his gaze away from Adam, couldn’t be more perfect than right at that moment.

Kris waved at the crowd and they cheered and clapped. “Hello, everyone, welcome to O’Riley’s. My name’s Kris Allen,” he said, and to the sound of the audience’s good natured laughter, Kris started playing.

The End

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to my first readers breea1, maerhys and mercilynn, and additional thanks to mercilynn for taking on beta duties as well. I really appreciate your help, ladies!


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